Choices
by blueglass25
Summary: What if there was another prisoner found in Marius's dungeon? Guinevere's cousin, Lena—not quite your average woad. One with, shall we say, gifts. Set during the movie. Bad title, but a decent read. COMPLETE
1. Meet the Mystic

Alright there boys and girls, this is my first fan fic ever, so I hope you'll all be gentle. Please be honest. I don't want to continue this fic if you guys think its not worth reading. Keep in mind I'm new to the writing game-so I can use as much advice as you can give. When it comes to being historically accurate I know I'm way off base-so please, bear with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to moi. I may use lines and/or quotes that are not my own later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

Okay, now that that's over- lets start the show.........

**Choices**

Chapter One Meet The Mystic

She couldn't remember the last time she had seen sunlight. How many days had it been since she was first locked in the sinners dungeon? Lena couldn't tell. She had tried to keep track of the time, but without the sunlight it was futile. Night and day had become one continuous grey expanse of pain and delirium. It had been at least 2 months. Of that she was sure. How much longer could they hold on? Her cousin Guinevere was strong, her soul had always been fierce-but even the fiercest could not last forever. The boy, Lucan, was still alive-Lena could hear his fearful whimpers even now-he had only joined them in the dungeon a week or 2 ago. His mother had passed quickly, she had been sickly upon entering this hateful place, and had not lasted long. Lucan was afraid, and weak-but Lena sensed he was strong enough to last a few more days.

'Poor little boy' Lena thought to herself. 'If I ever make it out of this _place_, Marius will pay for what he has done.'

The thought of harming the man who inflicted such pain upon these people brought the ghost of a smile to Lena's lips.

'Yes...Marius will pay' It was the last thought that ran through her mind before falling into a hunger induced stupor

Guinevere was resting her head on her cousins lap when she heard the noises. She had been in such a trance that she had not even heard them until after the doors were broken down. She could here footsteps coming their way. Who were these people? More crazed monks?

Guinevere painfully sat up and faced her cousin.

"Lena!" she whispered hoarsely, trying to bring her back to consciousness . "Lena!" she repeated to no avail.

"These two are alive!" Guinevere heard a man shout over his shoulder.

She could see a bulky bald man carrying Lucan out of the prison. The bars to the cell she shared with her dear cousin were brought down with one mighty swing of a sword. A curly haired man had swooped down had gathered the still unconscious Lena in his arms, as a handsome dark haired Roman did the same with Guinevere.

'Why is a _Roman_ helping me?' was all she could think as he carried her away from the prison in his arms. As she was greeted for the first time in many months by the blinding sunlight and fresh air, she decided as long as she was being saved, it did not matter who was doing the saving.

Okay, so I know it's super super short, but the next one will be longer. This is going to primarily be a Lancelot/OC, just so you all know. Please tell me what you think, gimme your opinion/advice/criticisms/anything you want to suggest/ wallet. It would be helpful beyond belief. I'll probably have another chapter up in the next two days-probably sooner. Thanks sooooo much

Blue


	2. I Could Never See Like You

Ok, so I know I said I would update yesterday, but I ended up writing chapter two-then turned it into chapter three cause I thought some stuff needed to be explained. This chapter has a pretty long flashback, where we find out all about Lena's "gifts". It might get kinda confusing at some parts and I tried to make it as clear as possible-but if you think its was to messy tell me. And again, this is my first story ever, so I can use any and all advice/criticism you've got. But please-be gentle, I'm trying really hard.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to moi. I may use lines and/or quotes that are not my own later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

PLUS: this chapter takes place after the girls and Lucan have been rescued, but before all the Arthur/Guinevere conversations, or the fixing of the dislocated fingers-just so you know

So lets Get this Started......

**Choices**

**Chapter 2** : I Could Never See Like You

Guinevere watched Lena carefully. She was waiting. Waiting for any little indication of awareness. Anything that would mean she was awake. Anything that would mean she was _alive_.

She had been unconscious since yesterday-when the knights had freed them.

"Wake up." she whispered softly. "Just for a moment." she begged her cousin. "Please." She said it so softly-it was as if the word had never left her mouth. Lena had not heard it. Lena would hear nothing.

The healer knight she had learned to be called Dagonet told Guinevere she would wake. Told her that Lena needed rest, but that she _would_ wake. Yet still Guinevere sat watching her cousin sleep.

''She will not die'' she tried to convince herself. ''She cannot die''

Lena was much too important to die.

''People as important as Lena have responsibilities. They can not simply die. It would be....irresponsible'' Guinevere winced slightly at her logic, but tried to comfort herself with the thought.

Their people needed Lena. Her father, Merlin, needed Lena. She needed Lena-and not only because Guinevere loved her like a sister, but also for reasons more selfish than they appeared. If Lena would die-her sight would pass to Guinevere-and that made the Woad afraid. Guinevere remembered when her father had first introduced her timid cousin. They had both been 7 years old. It was exactly a year after their grandmother had died.

_Flashback_

_There was a storm going on. Again. Guinevere was sitting in her room, wrapped in thick fur blankets, her dark_ _hair spilling over her eyes, obstructing the view out of her small window._ _She blew up a puff of air-shifting her hair to the side of her face without going through the hassle of_ _extracting her hands from the piles of blanket._

_She continued to_ _stare intently out the window. Her dark eyes searching for anything to interest her. Suddenly she caught sight of a guard_ _and a girl who looked about her own age. The girl was soaked to the bone-and covered in mud. The guard was leading her somewhere._

''_Who is she?'' Guinevere knew_ _most of the children in her village-and she had never seen this girl before ''Where are they going?'' she thought. Suddenly realization struck her-she stood up on her bed-the fuzzy blankets falling to her feet._

_"They''re coming here!" she said aloud-excited to have anything remotely interesting happening._

_She ran out of her room-down the halls, and by the time she had finally reached the entrance-her father was dismissing the guard. Guinevere watched cautiously from her position in the doorway-where she believed she could not be seen._

_"You are Lena." Merlin said. It was not a question-but a statement. "I have been expecting you for quite some time." he said kindly. The child was so afraid- why was she alone? "Where is your mother?" he asked gently. Her mother should have brought Lena to he village as soon as her grandmother died. As soon as Lena had received the sight . A year ago._

_When the girl did not respond he tried again. "Your mother? Liana?"_

_"How did you know my mother? How do you know my name? Who are you?!" she asked, desperately trying to hide the fear in her voice, but failing miserably. _

_The question shocked the old man. How could Lena not know he was her uncle? What had his sister told her of her heritage? "I am her brother, child" he explained calmly. "Your uncle" The girl was surprised by that-he could easily see it on her face. "Now.." he continued "Your mother? Where is she? We have things to discuss."_

_"My mother has died sir." came her shaky response. "5 days ago. She was very ill" Lena pressed on. "That is why I am here. S-she told me to go to the Woads. That Merlin would tell me everything that she....everything that she should have. Everything about the ........visions" she finished and looked down. Suddenly she looked up again, catching the man''s eyes "Do-do you know where Merlin is? He is supposed to be the leader of the Woads. I don''t really know what Woads_ _have to do with it, but if you''re my Uncle-maybe-maybe you could help me?"_

_"Child" He began. "**I** am Merlin, leader of the woads- and **you** are Lena, a Woad, and the seer of our people." he explained. He could tell she was confused_ "_Your gifts, your powers, your **sight**-are a thing that has passed through our family for generations. Your grandmother before you was the seer, and when she died her gifts passed on to you."_

_Though he did not show it, Merlin was shaken by Lena''s news. His sister. Dead. His **only** sister. Gone forever, and the last time he had truly spoken with her was before Lena''s birth. Before she left the Woad village with her husband. Her husband-where was he? Why had he not brought Lena here? He was in fact a Woad-a rather reluctant one, but a Woad by blood. _

"_You know about my, my......" she had never really known what to call them. Her Father had always referred to it as her "talents"-but Lena had never really liked that. "sight?" she asked, using the word Merlin had before. "You understand it?" she said-breaking Merlin from his thoughts of Liana and her husband._

_The old man let out a deep breath. "Yes. And I will help you to understand it in time. I will teach you to control it- as best you can.""_

_He smiled at the child. She looked like her mother. She had brown hair-not quite as dark as that of his own daughter, Guinevere-he could see little pieces of gold, and other lighter and darker browns running through her hair. _

_Just like her mother. Her pale skin, the delicate nose, the shape of her face, the full cupids bow lips, even the light sprinkling of freckles over her nose belonged to her mother. She was Liana at 7 years old. Except for the eyes-no, she had the eyes of her grandmother. Her mother had small eyes. Small dark eyes. Lena had large ones, very large ones. Merlin remembered his mother''s eyes. Light in coloring, but not always the same color. Blues or greens or even sometimes grays-depending on the light. Full with lashes. And around the pupil had been a ring of gold. A bright ring of gold. It made their eyes glow eerily. As if lit from within. He had always loved his mothers eyes-and they were just as beautiful on this little girl._

_Lena watched the old man. He was lost in thought. His dark brown eyes clouded with memory, staring into nothingness. He held a staff in one hand with carvings on it like nothing Lena had ever before seen. He had sturdy features, set jaw, prominent nose, she imagined that if he smiled-it would have been a nice smile. Like the kind the baker in her old town would give her every morning when she went out to get water. Sometimes he''d let her have a muffin or, on rare occasions, a cookie for free. _

_This time it was Merlin who broke Lena out of her thoughts. "Come with me, now, I will explain as much to you as I can" he said. "You too, Guinevere-come along, and don't try to hide-  
I've known you were there for quite some time dear."_

_Guinevere cautiously came out from her hiding place, surprised that her father was not angry. _

"_Guinevere, this is Lena, your cousin. She will be staying with us from now on." Merlin informed his daughter. ""I have many things to explain to you both. So come along." _

_Guinevere looked suspiciously at this Lena girl. She had a cousin? Why had she never heard of this cousin? She studied the girl, and when they made eye contact, Lena smiled kindly-  
Guinevere realized she was being studied as well._

_She smiled in return as they followed Merlin down a dimly lit corridor-back to the room where important meetings were held._

'_Perhaps'thought Guinevere ''having a cousin wouldn't be too bad.' _

_End flashback _

And so, like he had promised, Merlin explained all he knew to the girls. He told them of the sight. That it was a power that had been in their family for longer than anyone remembered. It was a gift-a gift that let one member of their blood line see things that would come to pass. Things that _may_ come to pass. Destinies, futures, choices that should not be made-Lena had the power to see it all. And when she died, the gift would pass to a child of hers, or grandchild, or any close relative who the sight saw fit to inhabit. If she died while she was young and childless-the sight would pass to the only one it could-Guinevere.

Now, Guinevere was not one who easily feared. There were very, very few things she was truly afraid of. The sight was one of those things. She remembered Lena going into her fits when she had long visions. She'd be out of it for long periods of time-and when she woke, she was often terrified.

She had seen more things than any one person should. She'd seen countless deaths yet to come, of people she did not know. She'd seen battles and bloodshed, and mangled bodies when she was not even old enough to fight. She had seen many terrible, horrible things, which Guinevere did not want to see.

Guinevere remembered when they were 12 years old and Lena had cried and begged and wailed and pleaded with Merlin to make it stop. To make it all go away.

And he couldn't. Because Lena had been chosen for this. It was her gift, her curse, her blessing, her duty, her cross to bear alone.

Guinevere had seen how hard it was for her cousin. How it weighed down her every movement. How it made her tired, and far too wise-how it made such a young girl so _old_.

And Guinevere saw how the people needed Lena. How they needed her for strength-how the needed her for _faith._ They had needed her grandmother the same way. The seers had been what kept the Woads around so long. What kept them from being wiped out by war and sickness like so many other cultures.

And Guinevere knew that the only one who could give the people the faith and strength they needed was Lena. _She_ had been chosen for a reason. She was right for this. Guinevere knew that. And she knew that if Lena were to die, she could not take her place.

Suddenly someone was speaking, and it took Guinevere a moment to shovel out of her thoughts and realize it was Lena.

"If you would stop worrying about me being dead for a second, Guinevere-you would have realized I'd quite woken up." she said knowingly. "I am fine-do not worry, "her eyes closed lazily, but she kept speaking "As long as we are away from the prison-I will be fine." She said groggily, and then as quickly as she had woken-she was back asleep.

"What?" asked confused Guinevere "Lena, how did you know we'd been saved?! You were uncon-" Then feeling slightly stupid, she realized who she was asking "right-the sight...." she mumbled, but Lena would not have heard anyway. She was again, fast asleep.

Guinevere's earlier worries had washed away after speaking with Lena. And satisfied that her dear cousin would live, she succumbed to sleep.

Ok so I think that was a lot longer than my first chapter. I dunno if it was too long though.....so please please please gimme any advice you've got. Tell me if I've got a lot of grammatical errors-  
that's never been my hot spot And tell me if you think this story is worth continuing. Thanks for reading, and PLEASE review

Blue


	3. Romans?

OK chapter 3-I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to moi. I may use lines and/or quotes that are not my own later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

NOTE: this chapter also takes place before Guinevere and Arthur had spoken to each other-Romance and stuff from the movie will be in the next chapter though, I promise.

**Choices**

**Chapter 3**: Romans?!?

Lena woke but did not open her eyes. The familiar scent of death and decay was missing. She was wrapped in a soft blanket. She knew they had been saved from the prison-but by who? Where was she? She remembered her brief conversation with Guinevere-but it did not answer any of her immediate questions.

She was about to brave opening her eyes and find out where she was when someone started speaking.

"Will she live?" came a man's voice from somewhere above her. Lena decided to keep her eyes closed, and let whoever was there with her continue to believe she was asleep.

"Aye, she is weak-and badly beaten, but I believe she will recover." came a response from somewhere to her right.

'So they're taking care of me?' she let relief flood through her body. These people could not be enemies if they were caring for a Woad. ' Especially one who smells like me' she thought dryly.

"Good, good" the first man spoke. "Arthur needs us now though, Dag, can you not leave them for several minutes?" he inquired. "We can send in the Roman's wife to watch them for awhile."

'Arthur? The Roman's wife?' she pondered what the men were saying 'Why would Lady Fulcinia be here? Oh gods! What if they are Romans?' her stomach did a flip at the thought of more Romans. 'Maybe they haven't yet realized we're woads.' she considered, while reminding herself there was still a possibility that these were NOT in fact Romans

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." was the second man's response

Lena heard a bit of rustling, and what sounded like the men leaving. When she was satisfied that they were truly gone, she snapped open her eyes and took in her surroundings. It took her a moment to realize she was in a wagon. Guinevere was to her right, and Lucan was sleeping in a far corner. Using what strength she had Lena propped herself up on her elbows and faced her cousin.

"Where are we?" She asked. Her voice was raspy and strangled from the months of so little speech. "Who were those men?" she managed to choke out.

"Right now, I am not certain where we are-but we are heading to the wall." Guinevere's voice was somewhat weak, but it was becoming easier for her to speak. "Those-"she continued "were two knights. Two of the knights of Arthur Castus" she added the last part cautiously, searching Lena's face for some type of reaction.

"Arthur and his knights?! He is a Roman! A Roman like Marius! A Roman taking us to the Roman's wall!" she whispered sharply. Her worst fear had been confirmed. Not only were these soldiers of Rome-they were ones she had fought and killed before. "Romans don't like us! Or have you forgotten we are Woads?!" her throat stung from trying to say so much.

Though she did not particularly like Lena's response, Guinevere was pleased to see her cousin acting more and more like herself.

"He may be _part_ Roman-but that does not make him like Marius Honorius!" she too spoke in sharp whispers. "They saved us, Lena! Please just-" Guinevere stopped what she was saying as the thick flap covering the entrance to the wagon began to open. The girls watched as Fulcinia slipped into the room. Guinevere looked to Lena, and they silently agreed to continue their conversation later.

They watched as the Roman woman tended to Lucan. Giving him some water and a bit of food. She had been so kind to them before-when they were imprisoned. She had secretly brought them food and water as often as she could. She had been beaten badly each time her husband had discovered her secret-but that did not stop her. She believed no God truly intended for innocents to die in their name-especially at the hands of someone like her husband.

When she was done with Lucan she came to check on Lena. The girl was a bit unnerving. The way she had watched Fulcinia so closely this entire time had made her uncomfortable. The poor thing looked awful. She was so gaunt. So tired looking. It did not help that her face and body were covered in bruises and a thick mixture of dirt and blood. Her brown hair was knotted and matted down. She was almost frightening to look at. A ghost of what she had been before the prison. A living, breathing ghost.

"Thank you." It was only a whisper-but Fulcinia was still startled by the speaking girl.

"W-What?" She had not done anything yet. Why would the girl thank her?

"For the kindness you have shown us. Most women would not have done what you did." it hurt horribly for her to speak this much, but Lena continued, her eyes watery from the sting in her throat. "It was very-" her weak voice cracked slightly, she swallowed, and Fulcinia could see how much energy it was taking the poor girl to say these kind things. "Very brave. T-thank you." she concluded- trying to keep her voice steady.

Fulcinia nodded and smiled in understanding. She looked down, and her eyes landed upon Lena's hand. It was poorly bandaged, and slightly bloodied. She reached out to inspect it-but when she touched the girls hand, something happened. It stung her at first, but she could not pull away. She lost her train of thought suddenly.

Guinevere looked on, at a familiar scene. She watched as Fulcinia froze, and Lena's eyes lost their color-turning into complete whiteness. She was seeing something in the Roman woman's future. It ended quickly, didn't last longer than a single moment, and when it was done, Fulcinia simply shook her head. She had no idea what had happened. She'd simply gone blank for a while there.

'I must be more tired than I believed.' she reasoned with herself, as she tended to Lena's hand.

In all honesty , she wasn't truly satisfied with that explanation. She had heard what the monks said about the girl. They called her a witch, a devil woman, a Satanist, a user of black magic. It was not that Fulcinia believed the insane monks. She could feel it though. Something was strange about the girl. It did not mean she was evil-but something had happened when she touched her hand that made Fulcinia a bit afraid. Lena had been very kind to her so far-but from now on, Fulcinia would be more wary.

After seeing to Guinevere, and checking one last time on Lucan, Fulcinia was called away by a very curvy, very blonde lady in waiting. The two Woads assured her they were fine-and could watch the boy. So, feeling sightly guilty for going, Fulcinia left with Lauria, as they found her name to be.

"What did you see?" asked Guinevere

Lena leaned in and whispered to her cousin-so that Lucan would not hear. "Marius will beat and rape her tonight." her voice was heavy with guilt, and concealing the fury she felt for Marius Honorius..

"Pig. We will get revenge, Lena. Our chance to make him pay is coming soon. I feel it." he voice was steady, but laced with icy contempt.

"As do I ." it was amazing how such a short response could be filled with so much hate.

There were several long moments of silence before Lena spoke again.

"Your father will want to meet the two of us tonight, when the caravan stops. He will be waiting not far away."

Guinevere nodded. She never doubted when Lena knew something. If Lena knew it, then it was true, Merlin would be waiting for them.

Ok there's another chapter. I'll try to get the next one up as soon as I can. I'm not sure though-cause I'm at my moms house all next week, and I don't think our word processor is compatible with fanfic-but I'll try. Ok soo next up will be a bit of romance-and the knights will finally be in it! Yay for kingths! Like always-Please please please help me become a better writer-REVIEW-it would really mean a lot to me. Thanks a trillion for reading

Blue


	4. Walking, Falling, Dancing, and Sneaking

Ok another chapter already. In this one we FINALLY get some of the knights! Yipee for knights! We also see a bit of Merlin. Yipee for scary old men with staffs!

NOTE: There still have not been any conversation's between Guinevere and Arthur. Also, when the girls see Merlin in this chapter-it is a different time than when Arthur meets him in the woods. Just for clarification.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to moi. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

Lets get it started in here.......

**Choices**

**Chapter 4**: Walking, Falling, Dancing, and Sneaking.

Lena shifted uncomfortably under the heavy fur blanket. She had been trapped in this blasted wagon all day. Dagonet had refused to let her walk around outside.

She hated being cooped up like this. She had, had to live for over 3 months in a tiny stone cell with her cousin-and now that she was free, she was stuck in a damn wagon with Guinevere, Lucan, A knight, and a Roman woman who kept eyeing her strangely.

She had been up since her conversation early this morning with Guinevere, and now it was nearly night fall. The caravan had stopped and made camp-but still that bloody knight wouldn't let her walk around.

She and Guinevere would have to sneak away to meet Merlin tonight, but she wanted a chance to look around and stretch her legs a bit first. She had to get out of this wagon! It was crowded, uncomfortable, and hot. She would wait-eventually she would get the chance, and the second she did-she'd be out of this damned cart.

Lena found her opportunity sooner than she had expected, when Fulcinia was called away by Lauria yet again. Guinevere and Lucan were both sleeping-and as she felt Dagonet's eyes on her, Lena pretended to be asleep as well. She heard him leave the wagon-and waited as his footsteps died off in the distance.

She crawled to the mouth of the wagon, and poked her head out the flap.

"All clear." she whispered to herself.

Careful not to wake the others, Lena wrapped herself in the heavy fur blanket, and as gently as possible she lowered herself to the soft snow covered ground. Her feet burned as she attempted to walk-she was in actuality hobbling, and she knew she must look ridiculous.

Slowly her feet and throbbing leg muscles grew accustom to walking. She stood at her whole height, breathing the cold air deeply as she walked around the campsite. She was in a world all her own-even if she looked like a maniac-it still felt wonderful to be alive again. To be breathing again. The cold air was re-inflating her lungs. After the months of inhaling death, it felt like she was truly breathing for the first time in her life. Gods did she love the feeling.

'I'm alright now.' Lena decided. She never had to go back to that evil place again. The prison was a memory now. Nothing but a bad memory. And now that it was just a simple memory, she was perfectly fine.

Though Lena was convinced she was quite fine, her legs were not under the same impression. She felt her knees buckle, and her weight give out. She closed her eyes and winced-preparing her body for collision with the cold earth.

But she did not feel her body crash into the snow. No. Instead, there was a strong arm around her waist. A body holding up hers. She opened her eyes only to find a pair of dark, dark brown ones staring at her, amused. One of the knights had rushed up and caught her. And now he was staring at her for being such a fool.

Lena's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Great. She'd gone and made and idiot of herself already. She looked down, ashamed of her clumsiness.

Lancelot stared down at the girl in his arms. He recognized her as the one Galahad had carried from the dungeon. Foolish girl. She'd gone walking around alone. Snuck out of the wagon as soon as Dag had left. He'd been watching her-and when he had noticed her starting to fall, he'd come to her aid.

But now, he was looking at her eyes. For a moment there she had held his gaze-and gods what eyes. They were...._haunting_.

Lena shifted uncomfortably in his arms, and Lancelot realized he'd been holding her much longer than necessary.

"Ahem. Right" he cleared his throat as he moved away from her slightly, while still holding her up. "You should not go walking alone yet. You are still weak Lady..Lady...."

"Lena" she filled in for him. "My name is Lena."

"Lancelot" he said with a smile.

She raised and eyebrow. So this was the famous Lancelot? Yes. She had seen him in battle before. He surely would not remember her. But she remembered him. He was a good fighter. Very strong.

"Well, thank you Sir Lancelot..." she said, taking a step back and fully releasing herself from his hold. "For your...assistance."

As she took another small step back, Lancelot finally broke his gaze away from her eyes-and took in the rest of her face. It was horrifying! Covered in blood and dirt, swollen in odd places- generally_ filthy._ He had to stop himself from making a face.

Though Lancelot thought he had covered his shock at her hideous face well-Lena could read him easily. She looked down and bit her bottom lip. He was_ disgusted_ by her. She had realized her face did not look normal-but she had thought it was healing. The bruises and swelling had gone down considerably. Fulcinia had been keeping a cloth full of snow over the injuries, and they had been diminishing rapidly. It did not matter much. Her face would heal in time-

'Appearance is only appearance' she told herself

"Thank you" she repeated with a small nod of her head, before backing up further and turning around. She started heading towards the small fire the other knights, minus Dagonet thankfully, had gathered around. She would sit in it's warmth for a bit before returning to the wagon.

Lancelot walked after her.

"You should return to the wagon Lady." he said slightly frustrated-he did not have time to explain this again. She was weak. The foolish girl should rest.

"I am quite fine now Sir." she said calmly. This man was putting a damper on her good mood.

This was getting slightly annoying. Lena just wanted to be left alone long enough to enjoy her freedom. She was fine. He could leave her be now.

"You almost fell." he reminded her. "You should not go parading around when you are not well." he said before walking away

She continued on her way to the fire.

'Why is he so concerned! I_ disgust_ him' she reminded herself.

"May I join you?" Lena asked as she came upon the knights. She received a few nods and a grumble or two that sounded vaguely like "yes". She sat down on a log next to a young curly haired knight who introduced himself as Galahad. She gave him her name, and he proceeded to introduce all the other knights.

"This one here's Gawain." he said pointing to a man with long messy hair, who smiled and nodded. "That's Tristan over there" Galahad said, referring to a man on the other side of the fire who was watching Lena suspiciously from behind a curtain of dark hair and braids. "And that, is old Bors." he said facing a portly bald man. Lena smiled and nodded to each of them silently.

The knights began a conversation among themselves while Lena sat in the glow of the fire, occupied with her own thoughts. She sat there for a fairly long while staring intently into the blaze, captivated by the flames-and relishing the feeling of their warmth, then she felt someone sit down beside her.

"Ah, yes" she heard Galahad speaking in her direction. "Lancelot, this is Lena, and Lena this-"

"Lancelot. Yes, I know." she said without taking her eyes away from the fire. "We've already been introduced."

"Thought I told you to get back in the wagon." Lancelot commented dryly.

"And I told you that I was fine." Came her response. "It would appear, we both have rather selective listening." she said with a sly smile. She could hear Galahad chuckling at that.

"No." said Lancelot. "No-I heard you quite well Lady Lena, but you are _not_ fine."

"I_ am_ fine. Perfectly fine!" she said standing up. She was exasperated. She was an adult, not some foolish little girl who needed babysitting. So she had a little trouble walking at first, she was fine now!

Calming herself down, she said kindly "Thank you for your concern Sir Knight, but I assure you-I am alright." Then, to further prove her point- Lena clumsily did a bit of a jig. "See?" She asked happily. "Perfectly fine." she sat and laughed softly along with the knights. Bors laughed boisterously before saying-

"Laddy, _I_ can't even jig that well, the girl's fine!"

"You could never jig at all you oaf." smirked Gawain.

"Oh and you can?" asked Galahad.

"Certainly. Better than the lot of you at least." he bragged.

Lena watched, laughing happily, as the three grown men jigged away-competing with each other over such a trivial thing.

When they were done they asked Lena to declare a winner.

"I'm afraid I could not possibly choose." she laughed. They all looked slightly confused at that so she explained. "How am I supposed to declare a winner, when _none_ of you can dance in the first place?"

That got laughs out of both Lancelot and Tristan. The other three knights sat and gave Lena looks of mock offense-before joining in the laughter.

Lancelot looked over at Lena. She was laughing still. More softly than the others, but with the same intensity. A smile spread across her features, and her eyes sparkled. And though this was the same blood, dirt, and bruise covered girl he had met an hour ago-Lancelot began to rethink his initial idea of her being horrifying.

The laughter died down, and Lena realized it had grown quite dark. She would have to get back to the wagon and decide with Guinevere how they would go about sneaking off to find Merlin.

"Ah, yes. Well I really should get back to the wagon. Dagonet will not be pleased. I've been gone much too long-so if you'll excuse me." she said attempting to stand. She faltered slightly and landed with a thump on the log. Lancelot chuckled and stood.

"Lady Lena. If you would let me, I would gladly escort you to the wagon." he said chivalrously . He offered her his hand, but when she hesitated, Lancelot bent down and took it. He began to pull her to her feet-and they both froze. Lena's eyes turned ghostly white, and for no more than a second- neither of them moved.

Lena's eyes regained their color, and Lancelot looked at her strangely before shaking it off as nothing. Lena looked around at the knights-only to find that they were deeply immersed in conversation.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief. No one had seen. She began to walk away with Lancelot-taking one last glance at the knights around the small fire. Her eyes caught with Tristan's. And in that brief second in which she held his gaze through the flames, she knew. He had seen what had transpired.

That was not good. That was _very_ not good.

She would have to ask Merlin what to do about it when they met in the woods tonight.

That was not the worst of her worries though. She would have to tell Merlin of what she had seen through Lancelot.

Something even worse than Tristan seeing her have a vision. Something vast and terrible.

Ice. And Saxons.

Lancelot broke Lena from her thoughts., and she realized they had reached the wagon.

"Goodnight Lady Lena. I will see you tomorrow. Now rest. I wouldn't want to have to save you from falling again." he said with a chuckle.

Lena gave him a look of mock indignance. "As if you would be so lucky!" she said smiling. "Goodnight." He smiled and turned-starting to leave, when she added as an afterthought "And Lancelot- I'm Lena, _just_ Lena. Not Lady."

He nodded and continued on his way, liking the way this named sounded when coming from her mouth.

Lena entered the wagon, only to be greeted by a stern look from Dagonet.

"I just needed to get out for awhile." she whispered to him. She was like a child caught stealing cookies before supper. "I'm fine see?" she asked pointing down to herself. "No harm done."

Dagonet nodded understandingly. He would not want to be trapped in this cart all day either. As long as the girl was alright-he supposed it was fine for her to walk around.

Lena laid down next to Guinevere, who was still sleeping. She found herself growing tired, and soon sleep claimed her.

She woke to find Dagonet above her with a plate of food. She saw Guinevere was eating already. Dagonet was going outside to eat with Lucan, who wanted to get away from all these girls.

They left, and Lena was about to speak-but Guinevere beat her too it.

"How will we get to my father tonight?" she asked quietly. They could not chance being heard.

"We will wait until Lucan and the Knight are asleep. Then we can sneak out."

"Right, but how are we supposed to know where father is?"

"I will know the way." Lena explained to her cousin. "He will be waiting."

Guinevere nodded then asked "What were you doing outside? I heard you talking with a man....."

Lena looked at her cousin. "I thought you were asleep when I came in."

"Oh that. No, I was just closing my eyes for a bit. Now tell me-who were you talking to?" Guinevere asked with a smile.

"One of the knights. I went for a little walk, and I ...spoke....with several of them." Lena didn't necessarily want Guinevere to know she had collapsed into Lancelot's arms, or that she jigged for a group of Sarmatian men. "They were quite nice." she added before taking a bite of bread..

"Quite nice!? What about his morning?"

"What about it?"

"You very nearly went on a tirade about Romans and why they despise us Woads!"

"The knights aren't Roman, Guinevere." said Lena, defending her earlier statement.

"But they are the Sarmatian Knights of legend! Servants of Rome." Guinevere didn't know exactly why she was taking this position. She had been the one trying to convince Lena to go easier on the men ,this morning.

"Yes, they are _Sarmatia's_ children. People of an occupied land. Like us, Guinevere." Lena said quietly. Both girls sat in silence for a few moments before Lena spoke again. "Besides, wasn't it you who was reminding me, that they saved us? We can trust them Guinevere. They aren't like the Romans." Guinevere nodded. She had known that since Arthur punched out Marius.

She smiled at the memory. Arthur was a good man.

Dagonet and Lucan were both fast asleep. Lena nudged Guinevere, and nodded towards the wagon's opening. The girls soundlessly crept from the wagon, wrapped in light blankets-the thick fur blankets would have provided a nice warmth, but would have made them too clumsy and slow.

They slipped silently through the camp, Lena leading the way. They were carful to avoid the watch. Being that they were Woads- and to be a Woad meant you were stealthy, silent, un-seen, and able to blend in-they had no trouble sneaking away.

Guinevere followed her cousin through a maze of trees and brush. It was dark-there was very little moon this night, and it took her eyes time to adjust. Lena was moving quickly. Her steps were silent and sure. Her hands ran along the sides of trees, feeling them as if they were signs leading to Merlin. Her hands knew these trees, this land, this place. Her eyes knew this path, her feet moved themselves- going in directions they had gone before. In dreams she had traveled this path. In dreams she had known it would lead to Merlin.

Lena stopped. Ahead of them was a small clearing. The trees here were not so many, the moonlight streamed in more heavily over this grassy land. Merlin stood there, watching the girls with a smile. They were alive. His daughters. Lena had always been a daughter to him. Niece seemed too far away for Lena. He had raised her. And he loved both girls.

They came towards him, and he embraced them both at once.

"It will give our people great hope to know you live." he told them.

Both Guinevere and Lena were of the highest noble birth possible among Woads. They were respected minds and warriors-who the people looked to for motivation. They placed their faith in the girls, and Lena's sight. It had hurt the Woads immeasurably when they had learned _both_ girls had gone missing. Now that they knew Guinevere and Lena had not perished, hoped could live again.

"We have things to discuss, girls." Merlin informed them. "The Saxons are coming. They will be upon us soon."

Lena nodded. "Yes." she said. "I have seen them. We cannot outrun them much longer." she whispered. "There will be a battle on the Ice."

Merlin digested the information. "How many?" he asked solemnly.

"200 at least." Lena searched her memory. There had to be something else in that vision from Lancelot. He would see the Saxons. He could not have been alone. Suddenly it came to her. "The knights will fight on the Ice, but it will not be the last confrontation with Saxons. A greater army will come. That is all I know."

Merlin stood for a moment. His face still and concentrated in thought. The lines of his wrinkles ran like deep rivers over his tanned skin.

'He looks so old.' thought Guinevere sadly. She knew her father _was_ old. He had been quite old at her birth-but Guinevere had never truly seen him appear _this_ old.

"The Woads will fight." He stated calmly. "We will fight the vast army of Saxons. They will not destroy our home." Lena smiled at his empowering words , Guinevere did not react as well.

"We are too few, father, for an entire army of Saxons. It is madness!"

"That, " Merlin continued in the same even tone. "Is why you must convince Arthur to fight with us. Show him, Guinevere, the beauty of this land. Britain is in his blood, and the Rome in which he believes in is dead. Give him a reason to fight with us daughter. I must ask this of you for the sake of our people. Capture his heart, unite our peoples, and he will lead us against the Saxons. Can you do this Guinevere?"

"I will try." Guinevere replied loyally. She would do this for the Woads. They needed Arthur, so she would try. She only feared that she might fail. How could she force Arthur to love her?

"You must bring him to me, girls, the night after next. I must speak with Arthur."

Both Guinevere and Lena nodded silently.

"Now go. Rest. You will need your strength in the days to come." he whispered before embracing them both tightly.

They uttered goodbyes, then made their way back to the camp. As the made their path past the sleeping forms of the Roman soldiers Guinevere could hear Lena let out a low hiss and breath a curse on their dreams.

They walked past the sleeping Galahad and Gawain-who were hugging each other. Both the girls had to suppress a wild fit of giggles when they saw that. They were only a short distance from the wagon-but they slowed to a halt as they reached a tree. Sleeping against one side was Arthur, and on the other was Lancelot.

Lena watched as her cousin stared at Arthur-and she could tell, Guinevere was slightly pleased she had to become involved with the man. Lena saw it in her eyes. Guinevere would have felt for Arthur even without her father prompting it.

Lena could see the sleeping form of Lancelot. Maybe he had found her disgusting at first, but he seemed to have quite shaken it off. Perhaps he wasn't as shallow as Lena suspected him to be.

'We'll see.' she thought. 'If the Woads need Arthur-it couldn't hurt to befriend his knights as well. We need all we can get.' Lena decided as she and Guinevere crept back into the wagon and shuffled under their thick fur blankets.

As she drifted into sleep, Lena's last conscious thoughts were of Lancelot. As he had lifted her up into the wagon earlier that evening, their eyes had met-and he was sad to see her go.

Alright there, another chapter done. I don't know whether or not I like it, so please tell me what you think. I FINALLY got the knights into it-tell me if you think I portrayed them okay. If I didn't please tell me how I can improve them. I don't think I'll be able to update this week until Wednesday. I'll shoot for sooner-but if it comes that late, I'll give at least 2 chapters. School starts next Monday for me, so after that I think I'll try to update once a week. Thanks for reading.

I know 5 reviews is nothing to be SUPER proud of-but to all those who did review, THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH. It means a lot to me. In the wise words of Mark Twain "I can live for two months off one good complement."

To everyone who read this chapter-please review, I need all the help I can get. Tell me if you think its really confusing. I felt like it might be a bit messy-so please tell me what you think.

Blue


	5. Etta, Eve, Exhaustion, and Home

Alright. WOW. I can't believe I finally wrote this. I had almost given up on this fic-but inspiration/guilt/holiday from school kinda slapped me in the face. I am incredibly sorry for taking so ridiculously long to update. My computer problems lasted me a good while-and starting high school has been VERY stressful. I know it sucks, but I'm forced to put schoolwork and such ahead of fanfiction. And I know, I know this is just a bunch of excuses-but I hope you all can understand. I will be trying to update more frequently, though I make no guarantees. I think I want a BETA type person. Maybe just someone to read ahead of time and tell me what they think. I dunno-if you're interested e-mail me or tell me about it in a review. It would be MUCH appreciated. Again, I am soooooo incredibly sorry for taking this long to update. It really is inexcusable, and I hope you aren't too angry with me. Thanks.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING ALL MY AMERICAN CHUMS (as far as I'm concerned, anything that gets me 2 and a half days off of school is worth celebrating, no matter how dumb it is.)

**NOTE:** The first part of this chapter takes place when Arthur sets Guinevere's fingers. Merlin will be coming back in the next chapter-which should be up soon-ish. I know that chapter four said they would meet merlin in 2 days-but we're changing it to 1. I hope that's alright. **BTW**: Lauria is mentioned in this chapter. She is Fulcinia's handmaiden person-she was in another chapter for like 2 seconds and will most likely be coming into the story a bit later. I just didn't want you guys to be confused....

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

Mad props to FALLEN KNIGHTS a KA fansite where I was able to find lines I needed.

Annnnnnnnd here we go.......

**Choices**

**Chapter 5: **Etta, Eve, Exhaustion, and Home.

She could hear as Guinevere cried out in pain. Lena could _feel_ Arthur's presence-she could _sense_ the pity he was feeling for her dear cousin as he set her gnarled fingers. She knew all this, however, she refused to open her eyes. She did not wish to see Guinevere suffer, so Lena pretended to sleep......again.

Guinevere let out strangled heavy gasps as Arthur pushed her dislocated fingers into their proper places. She was trying to control her wild breathing, but instead she let out a startling noise. Some strange thing that had made itself in her pain, then, with great difficulty, found it's way past her lips.

"He tortured us. With machines." she cried softly. "Made us tell him things we didn't know to begin with." Guinevere spoke tearily. She let out a breathless whimper, as she rose slightly-  
coming nearer to Arthur's face. "And then, I heard your voice in the dark."

A strange feeling rose within the knight's gut. He was tempted to brush the dark locks away from the woad girl's face, but restrained himself, and continued to listen as she spoke.

"I'm Guinevere. You're Arthur, of the knights from the great Wall." She informed him.

"I am." he said simply.

"Famous Britain who kills his own people." and with that, Guinevere collapsed in exhaustion.

Lena watched, or rather heard, as all of this transpired. She felt as Arthur made his way across the wagon to her.

She was slightly surprised by he closeness of his voice when he spoke to Dagonet. "How has this one been?" he asked his companion.

"She's healing- not been any trouble-sure as hell can't stay still, but she's healing." he stated matter-of-factly.

Arthur nodded slightly. He glanced down and found that Lena's fingers, unlike those of Guinevere, were in fine condition.

"Why do you think they did not hurt_ her_ hands..." he asked more to himself than Dagonet-which was fine considering the healer gave no response.

Lena had to keep herself from laughing, a smile itched to spread itself across her face. The monks had _tried_ to hurt her hands. The monks had also_ happened_ to be blinded by images of men being brutally slaughtered every time they tried to harm her hands. Just one of the benefits of her "sight". Many a time, Lena received visions without trying to when she made contact with others. When she wished it, Lena could receive, give, or prevent either of the two. The foolish monks had, had enough sense to learn to leave her hands alone.

There was a bit of shuffling, and what sounded like Arthur leaving the cart. Lena finally opened her eyes when she was satisfied Arthur was gone. She felt rather awake-and after so much continuous travel-she was not willing to give up that feeling.

She slipped out from beneath her warm covers, and fashioned the lighter blanket of the two around herself, making a kind of shawl. She was now wearing rather thick white slip Fulcinia had forced her into. It laced up in the front, was dirty (though not nearly as dirty as her former garments) , and quite uncomfortable-but it was in fact warmer and in better condition than anything the woad currently had. Fulcinia had promised she would bathe and dress the girls properly tonight, but for now Lena was made to wear the much too large under-dress of Lauria. She had much smaller breasts than the handmaiden, was taller, and weighed much less-which made the dress fit her awkwardly .

Making sure she was decently covered by her blanket/shawl and getting what she took as an approving look from Dagonet, the woad carefully jumped out of the slow moving wagon. She began walking, and again felt a bit wobbly.

She overcame the feeling quickly and, slowing her pace, let herself fall back into the throng of walking people.

As the woad listened to soft crunching of her feet through snow, she let herself smile.

Lena watched a young mother attempting to carry both her baby boy, and young toddler. The little girl dropped a toy doll and began to cry frantically. The mother, who was quite occupied with her other child, did not notice the fallen doll-and became rather confused as to why her daughter was screaming.

"SIIIIIIIITAAAA!" the youngster cried painfully.

"Sweetheart, shhh, shhh. Whats wrong darling?" the mother inquired worriedly.

"SITAAAAAAAA!" she screamed again, hot tears streaming down her face.

Lena, walking quickly, located the doll and brought it to the small family.

"Uh, Sita?" Lena asked politely while holding the rag doll in front of the girl.

"Sita!" she cried happily, a broad smile spread over her features and no trace of sadness remained. The girl reached out and grabbed her toy merrily.

"Oh thank you!" the mother began. "I hadn't even seen it fall-I'd no idea why she was crying so. What do we say, sweet? Thank the nice lady." she told her daughter.

"Thank you, Lady!" the girl yelled.

Lena smiled. "Of course."

"I'm Etta." the young mother introduced herself. "This is little Eve, and this is Brice ." she said, indicating to her children.

"It's nice to meet you...all. I'm Lena" the woad replied kindly.

Etta shifted the children in her arms uncomfortably. "Sweet, Mother needs you to walk now." she said guiltily. Eve had already walked a good deal of the time-it was clear that she was quite tired.

"I can carry her-If you'd like." Lena offered hesitantly. Perhaps the woman would be uncomfortable having some stranger hold her daughter? Perhaps it was rude to offer? Maybe she should just-

"Oh, would you? You'd be an angel! Thank you!" she declared as she handed her daughter over.

Lena froze. Sights passed before her eyes-but this time, they were not ugly, retched things. Children jumping into a cool pond. A girl asleep among soft grasses. A marriage. A small home, soft smoke floating from its chimney. There was a young woman-Eve-with long hair, the color of her mother's. She smiled down at a little butterball babe while bouncing him on her hip. An aged Etta was present, as was a man with curly whitening hair. Lena could not see his face, and before she had time to take a closer look it was over.

She smiled at Eve. The little girl would know a happy life.

Lena had been carrying the girl for over 3 hours now. 3 _long, tiring, painful_ hours. Eve was fast asleep in her arms, and Lena's legs were nearly ready to fall off. She was sure she had acquired a few blisters, and a wind had just picked up-making things unbearably cold.

'I'd better be a blasted angel...' She mumbled to herself. 'Not so bad once the numbness set in....I suppose.'

At least she had Etta for conversation. They had been talking quite a bit for the last few hours-and Lena was pleasantly surprised to have found someone interesting.

Lena studied Etta as they walked together. Her hair was auburn, and even in the dim, cold light it's color sparkled radiantly. Her skin was smooth and lightly tanned and her hands looked calloused and rough. She was slender and of medium height, and rather lovely. Her dark eyes held an odd flare about them, she smiled and laughed quite easily-one could tell she had spirit.

Etta was a sweet girl-too young to have 2 children. Her husband had been a fairly prosperous merchant. She had been married to him when she was only 17, and he was a good 30 years older than her at the time. It was an interesting story, and Etta had been sharing it with Lena for the last half hour.

"I hated my father. God, I do miss him now-but that man. It was like I was being sold! A daughter for 50 ducats, 3 sheep, and a sow! I'd barely even spoken to the man he was marrying me off to!" Etta spoke vehemently of her arranged marriage. "Oh, I cried night and day, begged, pleaded-but neither of my parents gave a wit! Told me Edmund was a good Christian man who could provide for me, that's all they cared."

"But where is your husband now? Does he not own a wagon you might ride in?" asked Lena.

"A wagon! Ha! I've not a cent to my name thanks to him!" Laughed Etta, genuinely entertained by the girls question. "Good old Edmund! Dies and leaves me with all his debt!" At Lena's concerned look she added "Oh, don't worry-I didn't like him nearly as much as my parents thought I would. Wasn't a very nice fellow after all. He sold land that didn't belong to him. Got himself in some grand trouble, then went ahead and died!"

Lancelot, who had been riding near the rear of the caravan, was slowly making his way to the head. He slowed his horse as he came upon a crowd of people too thick for him to cut through. Spotting Lena, who looked rather exhausted, he chuckled and made his way towards her. As he approached, Lancelot could hear a woman speaking enthusiastically.

"That's how I ended up working for Marius. Well, Marius's wife really. Edmund sold him a vineyard that didn't exist, and by the time he'd figured it out Edmund was dead and gone. Took everything we had, that pig did. Told me it was my responsibility to pay him back." Etta sighed sadly. "And then, said he was **_kind_** enough to offer me a position as a housekeeper. Oh he's kind alright! Kind as a bloody a-"

"A ride, milady?" He interrupted smoothly, patting the saddle in front of him, as he came up next to Lena.

Lena, who was very much interested in Etta's story, started slightly, surprised to find the knight riding alongside her. "Ahh! I-I'm...I'm quite fine where I am, thank you." she insisted.

"Lena, take no offense, but you look as though you-" he stopped, noticing for the first time that Lena was carrying a child. The woman he had overheard looked about the same age as Lena, her dark eyes searched him curiously. In her arms was a babe, no more than 1 year old.

Seeing as Lancelot had momentarily abandoned his sentence, Lena took the opportunity to speak. "Thank you, but I could not possibly leave Etta here to carry both her children through the cold, cold snow." She said, putting extra emphasis on the word ''cold''.

"Oh don't be silly! Of cou-" Etta stopped mid-sentence at a look from Lena. "Ahem..I mean....no! Eve is asleep, we wouldn't want to... wake her." She mumbled, nodding towards her daughter.

Lancelot, seeing Galahad not far ahead, yelled out the younger knight's name and motioned for him to come over.

"The caravan will be coming to a halt shortly. Galahad, give the fair lady and her children a ride until then." Galahad nodded and Lancelot continued. " Lena, I will take you back to the wagon. I believe Dagonet will be expecting you." A victorious grin set itself upon his face.

Lena was at a loss of words, while Etta was simply happy to be off her feet. She smiled graciously as Galahad dismounted his horse. He helped Etta up, and took a seat behind her as Lena handed up Eve and Brice.

"Em..I-I am Galahad." He introduced himself nervously. This woman was quite pretty-he did not wish to look foolish.

"Etta." she said simply. "Thank you, Sir Galahad, I greatly appreciate your kindness."

"My pleasure." He said with a bit more confidence.

Lena smiled from her position on Lancelot's horse. Galahad and Etta appeared to be having a nice chat.

'Good for them' she thought pleasantly.

Lena gave a sigh of relief. It was nice to be on the horse and out of the freezing snow. She sat in front of Lancelot, his body providing a bit of warmth.

"And you wanted to walk?" He asked knowingly, a smug smile across his face.

"Well, I didn't want to leave Et-" She cut herself off. "yes, I suppose I did think I'd rather walk." she confessed.

Lancelot was surprised at her honesty. He found himself with nothing to say-making for an awkward silence. The beating of Saxon drums made itself increasingly obvious.

"Bloody Saxons...." mumbled Lancelot uncomfortably.

"They will be upon us soon." Lena stated. "a fight cannot be avoided."

"Who's fight? Certainly not mine." he vented.

"Only if you choose it not to be." She replied calmly.

"I have payed my dues. I will not die fighting a worthless war for a land not my own." Lancelot failed to cover his frustration.

The wagon was coming into view, though a heavy crowd prevented the pair from traveling any quicker than the pace of the slow moving people.

"A land not your own? Have you not lived here _fifteen_ years of your life? Have you not fought for these people and bled for this land?" asked Lena softly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Lancelot did not respond. He merely pondered Lena's words. He had lived here most of his life. He'd been taken from his home at the age of 13, and more of his years had been lived in this life than the one left behind. He_ had_ fought, and he _had_ bled, but he had never thought of the island as home.

Then again, how much of a home was Sarmatia now? He remembered it, yes-but vaguely. The fields of wheat were not quite as golden, his father's face was not so clear. His mother's voice was nothing more than a distant memory of her singing a song he had forgotten the words to. His sister was grown now. Probably married with a family of her own-and all he knew of her was that she had blonde hair and once owned a doll named Animalia-or was it Anatolia? That life had been seen through the eyes of a boy unfit for war. It was a shell of something left far behind-it was no home. He had no home.

Lena sighed. "I know where I belong, Lancelot. Perhaps you've yet to find it for yourself." Still he said nothing. "Being in-between does not leave you without a home. Things left behind are often too far from us to truly return. And things forced upon us often blind us through resent." she said knowingly. "You will find your place. In time, you will know where your heart lies." she said understandingly.

For the second time that day, Lena had surprised him. She had understood exactly how he felt-and managed to comfort him a bit.

The wagon was near enough for Lena to have left Lancelot's horse and returned to her cousin-but the pair rode on together anyway. They did not speak-but merely rode in silence, both feeling slightly at peace for the first time in a long while.

Guinevere sat at the mouth of the wagon with the front flap pulled back so that she might watch the people outside. She pulled her blankets tighter around herself, but let the drifting snowflakes melt on her face as they pleased.

When she and Lena had been younger they had loved to play in the snow. Most children had hated it. The others wished for clear and warm and lovely days. Snow and rain had been lovely to Guinevere.

Guinevere caught sight of Arthur up ahead. He turned and returned her stare. Casually, he dropped the pace of his horse until he was close enough to the woad to speak.

She locked eyes with the knight, then shifting her gaze to the clouded sky, Guinevere began to speak. "My father told me great tales of you."

"Really?" He asked, slightly surprised. "And what did you hear?"

"Fairy tales.' she said dreamily. "The kind you hear of people so brave, so selfless that they can't be real." she sighed. "Arthur and his knights. A leader both Britain and Roman." Again, Guinevere held his gaze "And yet you chose your allegiance to Rome. To those that take what does not belong to them. That same Rome that took your men from their homeland."

"Listen, Lady, do not pretend that you know anything about me or my men." replied Arthur angrily. What right did she have to judge him?

"How many Britons have you killed?" she asked cooly.

"As many as tried to kill me. It's a natural state of any man to want to live" countered Arthur.

"Animals live!" for once Guinevere let her emotion break through the composed front she had created. Calming herself, she resumed speaking. "It's the natural state of any man to want to live free, in their own country." once again averting her eyes, Guenevere continued. " I belong to this land. Where do you belong, Arthur?"

Arthur, not knowing how to answer such a question, remained silent. For the first time, he did not know where he belonged. Rome. It had always been Rome. Civilized, educated Rome. But after meeting men like Marius and Germanis-he was beginning to think his Rome was nothing but a dream.

Pushing those unwanted thoughts from his mind, Arthur did the only thing he could think of. He avoided Guinevere's question by quite obviously changing the subject.

"How's your hand?"

The woad smiled at his pathetic attempt to divert her attention. "I'll live, I promise you." Sighing, she spoke one last time. "Is there nothing about my land that appeals to your heart? Your own father married a Briton. Even he must have found something to his liking."At that Arthur rode away. He did not wish t have such a conversation with Guinevere.

Though he could no longer see her, the woad's dark eyes burned brightly in his mind, and her words echoed through his brain.

"_Where do you belong, Arthur?"_

OOOOOkay. So I hope you all liked it. Tell me what you think. How's everyone liking Etta? I'm not sure about her yet....but I wanted someone with some pluck, so I figured why not?

I would love you forever and a day if you reviewed. Advicebetter story. Okay. Well I think the next chapter will be much more interesting. And it should be up pretty soon. Thanks for reading!

(the very very extraordinarily sorry) Blue


	6. A Boy I Used to Know

Hey all. So here's good old chapter 6. I hope you all enjoy it. Again, I'm kinda hoping to get a Beta. So if anyone wants to read my chapters ahead of time and just gimme some feed back (grammar and spelling help would rock my world) tell me about it in a review or e-mail me and maybe we can set up a system of some sort. It would be much appreciated- no worries if no one can though.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I''m being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**NOTE**: Merlin isn't gunna be showing up until next chapter. Sorry to all you Merlin fans...cause I know there are just so many.

HOPE THAT EVERYONE HAD A GREAT HOLIDAY SEASON

**Choices**

**Chapter 6**: A Boy I Used to Know

Night had come upon the caravan, and it found Lena and Guinevere within Fulcinia's private wagon. As she had promised, Fulcinia was giving the girls their long awaited bath.

Lena gave a deep sigh of relief as the Roman woman gently poured warm water down her back. Working diligently, Fulcinia was able to wash away the thick layer of blood and dirt covering Lena and Guinevere from head to toe. Under the grime she discovered strange and graceful blue markings swirling down the girls' backs.

After throughly washing Lena's face Fulcinia smiled slightly. The girl's countenance was very nearly normal. There was no trace of swelling, though light bruises were still visible. Her eyes seemed, if possible, brighter in contrast with her pale skin.

Lena shivered as a cool wind hit her wet body. The only wagon available for bathing had a screen wall on one side, making things rather cold.

Lena turned her head slowly and looked over her shoulder out of the screen. She saw a figure in the dark-Lancelot? Yes it was Lancelot, and as her vision adjusted she was able to make out his face, his eyes. He was watching her strangely, and she returned his gaze.

"Tilt back you head, child." Fulcinia said, holding a vile filled with a thick liquid.

Lena turned suddenly at her words, surprised.

"Your head..." She repeated, thinking Lena had not heard her.

The woad looked back to where Lancelot stood, but he was no longer there.

Facing Fulcinia again, Lena nodded and tilted her head as the woman had instructed.

Guinevere watched the entire scene suspiciously. What was Lena doing? Why had Lancelot been watching them bathe? This was only a _little_ strange.

Fulcinia artfully tied back both girls' hair, after combing it to a shine. She then provided them with dresses, cloaks, and leather slippers-all in the traditional roman style. Both dresses were dove gray, and held together by golden brooches at the shoulder and elbow. Neither girl could quite "fill out" the garments, but they were thankful none the less.

Guinevere sighed deeply. She had never been so happy to be washed. The warm water had cleared away the filth and grime of the dungeon. The water could wash away the proof of her torture. She finally felt _clean_. For the first time since her rescue, Guinevere truly felt free of the prison.

After helping them tie on the thick burgundy cloaks, Fulcinia sent the girls on their way. Both woads thanked her profusely, and left.

"We are to meet father tonight." Guinevere spoke in their native tongue, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation.

"We shall wait for everyone to fall asleep, you must bring Arthur to Merlin, and I will follow." Lena answered in the same language as they walked closer to the knights. "Can you get him to follow you?" she asked.

"I think so." Guinevere scanned the campsite until her eyes fell on Arthur. "I will."

Lena nodded. As she was about to head towards the campfire where the knights were situated Guinevere spoke once more.

"Will this work, Lena?" Lena turned to look at her cousin. "Will Arthur fight for us?" Worry was quite apparent in her eyes. Lena could see how hard this was for Guinevere. She liked-well more than liked- Arthur, and she did not wish to hurt him, but they needed him to fight.

"I cannot be sure, but I believe he will fight...for _you_." she whispered. Guinevere nodded, and left pondering her cousin's words.

Tristan looked on from the shadows as the girls parted ways. He had been watching them for quite awhile. He did not trust either of them, for several reasons.

One-they were woads. WoadEnemy. EnemyBad.

Two-that Guinevere one had gotten to Arthur, and Lena to Lancelot. He knew the power of a pretty woman, and that his comrades were infatuated. InfatuatedBad.

Three-there was something strange about Lena. He couldn't quite place it, but something was off, and what he saw at the fire the previous night only added to his suspicions. He had heard the roman guards talk about her as though she was a worshiper of black magic. He did not entirely trust the reasoning of the guards, being that they were Roman-and idiots. But either way, Black MagicBad.

Four-he'd been listening to the girl's conversation carefully, and though he did not understand the language they were using he had heard two very key words. Arthur and Merlin. They were planning something that involved his leader and the infamous Dark Wizard. That he would not have.

The girls were clever, they had charmed his friends with the least bit of effort, but they had not taken Tristan into account. And Tristan had eyes that could see through anything. Well, almost anything.

Taking the first available seat she saw, Lena sat herself beside Galahad on a log in front of the fire.

He looked at her strangely before a spark of recognition flashed through his eyes. "Lena! You're..You're clean!" he gaped, taking a swig from his drink.

How was one supposed to respond to a statement like that? "Yes...thank you?" she said uncertainly.

"I can barely recognize you with a clean face and a proper dress, Lass!" Bors laughed.

Lena feebly forced a chuckle at Bors' words. It was making her uncomfortable to have the men look at her like this.

Lancelot and Gawain approached the fire, and Gawain placed himself next to Lena. She caught Lancelot's eyes, and though he did not seem at all surprised at her sudden cleanliness, he averted his gaze.

Was he embarrassed? Was _Lancelot _embarrassed? No that's not what this feeling was. He had seen her bathing-and it wasn't that Lancelot didn't enjoy seeing her (or any pretty woman for that matter) without clothing-but it felt like Lena was better than that. She was too beautiful to be spied on as she dressed. Lena was worth more than your average naked woman.

Worth more than your average naked woman? What was this! He had himself rifling through this nonsense for a woad! One who was, until very recently, hideous!

Lancelot dared to look up at the subject of his thoughts. She looked rather uncomfortable, he noted, sandwiched between Galahad and Gawain. She smiled softly at something the slightly drunken Galahad whispered. Lancelot smiled at seeing her do so.

"And I like her very much!" Galahad concluded quietly. He had, in his partially drunken state, confessed to Lena that he found Etta to be a "very nice looking lady, indeed." It appeared that during their brief ride together that afternoon the young knight had grown quite fond of Lena's new friend.

"She is very kind." Lena agreed.

"Yes! Yes, I thought so too!" He stated excitedly. "Very nice!" he repeated, clapping Lena on the shoulder as he spoke happily. She went ridged a his touch.

And then, though her eyes still appeared to be taking in the sights currently around her, all she could see was Galahad wielding a blade and bringing it down upon what was obviously a woad warrior. The cold steel cut through his abdomen and crimson gushed not only from the fresh wound, but from the mouth of the dying woad.

Lena inhaled sharply at the sight.

"Are you alright, Lena?"Galahad asked at hearing her gasp, his voice bringing her back to reality.

"Yes." She breathed. It had been one of Galahad's memories of battle. "Yes," Lena repeated louder "just thinking."

Memories were the easiest things to see. Men are made of moments passed-things so common they took no effort to see. Memories gave themselves to Lena, she need not _try_ to see them. When viewing the past, the sight did not affect Lena so drastically. She went a bit stiff, but other than that one could not tell she was "seeing" anything.

Lena's mind raced over the vision she'd just had. The man's eyes had been wild with fear as he lay gasping for air. Blood sputtered from his colorless lips, mixing with his blue woad paint. A sickening feeling of familiarity washed over Lena was she watched the man die over and over in her mind's eye.

She recognized his face.

A wave of nausea hit her as Lena realized she knew the man she had just witnessed Galahad kill so ruthlessly.

"Anlaf." Lena breathed the name.

He had been a boy from her village-only two years younger than Lena. At 12 he had fallen hopelessly in love with Guinevere (he'd grown out of it by the time he was 13, mind you, but it was all she could remember of the sweet boy). Lena had not even known he was dead. It must have happened well she was in the prison. And the man sitting mere inches away from her was responsible for his death. Galahad had slaughtered him without so much as-

'That's not fair, Lena' she silently reprimanded herself. 'He's doing his job. Woads have killed countless knights. Kill or be killed. It's not his fault.' she reminded herself. 'It's not his fault.' she repeated the words to herself over and over, but try as she might Lena could not shake the image of the dying woad from her mind.

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Galahad once more, smiling goofily.

"_Yes_." she answered, surprised by the harshness of her own voice. Lena knew she had no right to be angry with the knight-he was even worried about her-but she _was_ angry.

Galahad, taken aback by the tone of her answer, was suddenly snapped from his drunken, Etta-induced euphoria. The look of surprise on his face trounced Lena with guilt. He could have no way of knowing why she was upset. This was not fair. How could Galahad understand that she had just seen him murder Anlaf?

Pretending had always been the hard part for Lena. Making sure people who couldn't know about it didn't know about the sight. Pretending she hadn't just seen life escape a boy she used to know. Or a massacre. Or a child drown in the river. Or whatever it was her eyes were forced to look upon. Before she had come to the Woads, before people had known or understood what she was, she had been _normal_. She hadn't a need to pretend then. But Lena couldn't remember that time.

Even with the woads she had to pretend. Make believe she could control this thing, this "gift". Pretend it didn't hurt her, that it didn't _scare_ her.

"I have to go." She said dully, looking away from the fire. She couldn't let herself break down like this in front of all these people for no apparent reason.

"Lena, are you-" but before Galahad could finish his sentence she was gone.

Lancelot watched as Lena, who was very suddenly looking rather sickly, stumbled away from the campfire. "What have you said now?" he asked Galahad, his voice full of accusation, as he began to stand.

"Nothing, I-I just asked if-" but Lancelot was already gone, following his woad through the dark woods.

Lena found a relatively clean spot on the ground, untouched by the icy snow, under a large tree. She threw her back against the trunk and sat, staring into the cold nothingness of the forest.

And then Lena let herself cry.

Because now Anlaf would _always_ be the boy who wrote sweet love poems to her cousin. And because she knew that Galahad didn't wish to kill at all. And she cried for those who would die in the war, because there _would _be a war. She had already started seeing the deaths that would occur, in her dreams. Only faceless Saxons so far-but soon the visions would be of dying friends. More Anlafs bleeding into the earth. She cried because all would be lost if the woads could not win this-their home would be utterly destroyed. And she cried because Arthur was selfless and his men loyal-she knew he would fight and that his knights would join him. She cried more for the knights because she knew how they felt. Lena was trapped too. They would be free someday but she would always be crushed by the burden of her sight. No matter how many years she waited she would _never_ be granted freedom.

A twig snapping somewhere to her right brought Lena from her thoughts. She looked up to find Lancelot standing several feet away.

"How long have you been there?" she asked shakily while brushing away her tears.

"Not long." he lied. He had been there the entire time, watching her cry. "I wanted to make sure Galahad hadn't upset you too much." He came closer, noticing her red eyes. "Seems he has..." her face was still wet with tears. "Damn eunuch" Lancelot muttered under his breath. The young knight always ran his mouth off once he had a bit of ale in him.

Lena laughed at the eunuch statement-though she knew Lancelot had not intended for her to hear it. "No, no" she replied. "He hasn't said anything. I'm just...tired." she supposed it wasn't a full lie. She was a bit tired, more mentally than physically...but that counted too, right?

Lancelot furrowed his brow and gave her a incredulous look. "...Tired?" He doubted that tiredness could send a girl like Lena into such a fit. Lancelot knew how Galahad could behave once drunk-he just hadn't thought it enough to make a woman cry like that.

Lena did not wish to lie again. Instead she said "Galahad hasn't done anything, Lancelot. Please believe that." and hoped it would be enough.

What was she supposed to say? 'I'm crying in the middle of the forest because I just witnessed your friend slaughter a boy I knew very long ago and I've recently received several visions of dying Saxons in the war that is so soon to come-which, by the way, I know so very much about because I am the legendary Woad 'Seer'

No, she was just guessing-but it didn't appear that would go over very well. So she looked at him, pleading with her eyes that he would let it be.

Lancelot nodded. "Very well." Lena sighed thankfully. "So then tell me," he began, a smug smile drifting into place. "What is it that's gotten you _so_ upset?" He sat down beside her as he spoke.

And she had thought he was letting her off so easily.

"I'm worried, I suppose." It wasn't a lie. She _was_ worried.

"Ah, _worried_." again he smiled charmingly. "And who is it you're so worried for, fair lady?"

"_Everyone_." she whispered.

Lancelot gave a look of concern "Everyone is quite a few people, Lena."

"This war that is almost upon us, Lancelot, it will change _everything_. It will change life for everyone. If we should fail, if the Saxons take Britain, the land, the people (not just the woads) and their livelihood- it would all be destroyed." She slammed her hand against the ground in exasperation. "We are a thousand to one! We cannot win, but we _must_!" She sighed in frustration.

'She has very pretty lips.' thought Lancelot as he studied her face. Then, feeling guilty that all her could think about were lips as Lena poured out all her troubles (which were troublesome indeed and, in fact, being poured out because he had asked so diligently asked to hear), Lancelot forced himself to concentrate on her words. Not her enchanting eyes, or how lovely she smelled, or how soft her hair looked...

"And if we won, our land would finally be _ours._"she continued . "The Romans are leaving-this should be our time! We have waited so long to keep this place, to have our home. Now we have this threat. We must fight again." she looked Lancelot in the eyes. "_So many _will die-Woads and Saxons alike. Much blood will be spilled in the days to come." Lena summed up her worries for the curious knight-conveniently excluding Anlaf, Galahad, Arthur, and the sight. "The woads-we've been fighting so long...they need to know peace, Lancelot." the knight was startled by how familiar her words sounded.

Lena let out a soft, cynical laugh "I suppose there's always a war though..." she muttered, looking up through the branches of the tree she and Lancelot sat beneath.

He chuckled at her dismal words. "Always a war" Lancelot repeated it softly to himself. Lena turned her head to look at the knight. He held her gaze and Lena, while staring back into his dark brown eyes, realized just how close she was to Lancelot.

She spoke more softly than she had before "If only for a while, the woads need fighting to stop." Lena could feel his warm breath on her freezing cheek. "Temporary peace."

Again, his alluring smile fell in place. "Too much peace," he leaned closer to whisper in her ear as though he was confiding a great secret. His hot breath tickled Lena's poor ear into a enticing frenzy. "would be dreadfully boring." his closeness sent tremors down her spine. Lancelot's eyes darted down to her lips and thoughts similar to his previous ones raced through his mind.

Lena's eyes searched his face hungrily as well. She wanted to respond to his statement-say something-but she could not find the words. She was silenced, however, before she even had the chance to speak by Lancelot's lips softly brushing over her own. He paused, as if waiting for approval. She looked a bit startled, perhaps he shouldn't have done th-

Lena kissed him again, this time harder and more deeply. Lancelot returned the favor with as much vigor as she had. Her hands found their way to his chest, and though it was covered in chain mail armor, the touch drove him wild. She shivered with delight as his hands ran up her back

They were forced to break apart for air. Slightly out of breath, Lena spoke. "Who could possibly live with _boring_?" she smiled playfully and Lancelot laughed.

It began to rain again, and the two made there way back to campground slowly, speaking along the way. It was growing late and when they reached their destination Lena headed towards the wagon. She needed to wait with Guinevere. They still had to see Merlin tonight.

When Lancelot reached the fire most of the knights were starting to settle down for the evening. He found himself a tree to sleep against and laid down. And though it was snowing, he was freezing cold, and knew that they were no less than a day away from confrontation with the Saxons, Lancelot found he was oddly happy. And so he drifted into a light sleep, thinking of Lena- with eyes so bright they burned his very soul.

Arthur sat wide awake. He could not sleep knowing the Saxons where so close behind, knowing that all these people were in danger even as the slept. He was driving himself mad, he knew he desperately needed rest-but rest would not come.

Guinevere silently nodded to Lena before soundlessly exiting the wagon. It was time and she could feel it-without Lena telling her so. She had to go to Arthur and take him to her father. She prayed that it would go well. Many a thing were to be revealed that night. Arthur would be given a choice that would change the lives of all her people.

Lancelot watched as his leader followed Guinevere through the snow. He'd expected as much. It had been obvious that Arthur felt for the girl. What he had not expected, however, was to also see Lena, following the couple. What was going on? He began to stand but stopped as he spotted yet another stealthy figure moving along the path the previous three had taken.

Someone was following Lena.

Ooooooooooookay. So this time I seriously expect to have the next chapter up relatively soon. Although a month is pretty good...for me...

Thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers. It really does help a ton. To all of you who asked about Dagonet, Tristan, Lancelot, and there respective deaths I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see. The scene with the Saxons on the ice will either be in the next chapter or the one after that. We'll find out about Dagonet soon.

blue


	7. That Haunting Heat

**This is just an edited version of chapter 7-nothing new. Chapter 8 is nearly done and should be up soon. **

Okay, I'm just going to start by saying I'm VERY sorry if I've upset any of you by not updating since the beginning of time. ( I doubt there are enough people reading this to actually make anyone upset...but I digress.) I have been having really horrid computer problems. My word processor has been absolutely evil and I could not update for the longest time. Sorry all, I hope to have these problems fixed in the near future-but as of now that isn't going so well. Please stick with me, I'll give you updates as often as I can. Thanks.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**NOTE**: MERLIN CHAPPY...finally! I know how many people were waiting for this one...(that was a joke)

**Choices**

**Chapter 7**: That Haunting Heat

Lena walked silently through the snow, following Arthur. She had waited several minutes after Guinevere left before exiting the wagon and now was headed on her way towards Merlin.

She was a little less than halfway to her destination when she heard the footsteps. They were barely audible but Lena had detected them. Someone was following her. She couldn't very well lead this person to Merlin, Guinevere, and Arthur whilst they were having such an important conversation. She also couldn't miss the conversation. If only she could see who it was. But no, she couldn't turn around to check, that would be much to obvious. So instead, Lena began leading whoever it was through a tangled maze of trees and shrubbery, trying to lose them while appearing as though she was none the wiser to her follower.

Lena listened carefully. It seemed as though the footsteps had stopped but she couldn't tell over the light crunch made by her own. She hid behind a tree, her back pressed tightly against it, trying to remain inconspicuous and all the while straining to hear footsteps.

Lancelot had lost sight of whoever had been following Lena and was wandering somewhat aimlessly. He continued in the direction he believed the others to have gone, searching for some sign of their whereabouts. He **would** find out what was going on. He could understand why Arthur would follow Guinevere. There were certain..._things._..those two could be doing out in the forest. But Lena? Why the hell was she sneaking about after them? And who had been following _her_? That, above all other emotions it might provoke, was cause for worry. He wanted to know what the hell was going on!

Lena smiled in relief. No one was out there. She must have lost whoever it wasor imagined it. Yes, she had always had the tendency to become somewhat paranoid. There probably had never been anyone out there to start with. Feeling more secure she dared to look out from behind her tree. No one.

And just as the thought that she was perfectly alright passed through her mind, something shot out of the darkness and took hold of her.

Lancelot, sighing in frustration, turned and was about to head back to his sleeping accommodations when he heard it.

A strangled scream.

Lena.

He ran, oblivious to all his surroundings, in the direction the noise had come from, slowing only once he heard more sounds.

"Where are they?" demanded a familiar voice.

A very familiar voice.

Lancelot broke through a particularly difficult shrub that had been in his way and stared in confusion at the scene in front of him.

"Tristan!"

"Go back to camp, Lancelot." replied the scout as calmly as ever, not the least bit unnerved by the sudden appearance of Lancelot.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted at his fellow knight, gesturing towards the struggling Lena. Tristan had her pinned against a tree, left forearm held up firmly across her neck, ready to choke at a moments notice. His right hand rested ominously on the handle of his dagger.

Tristan ignored the bewildered knight. "Where has she taken him?" he demanded coldly, his eyes boring into Lena's. "What does the wizard want with him?" he began to push is arm slightly more forcefully against her throat. "Tell me." he demanded fiercely.

Lena cursed under her breath. Tristan had watched her follow his commander. He had gotten wise to what was going on. But, that look he was giving her...there was something more to it. There was mistrust in his eyes, that was certain, suspicion too-but there was another factor. Something she couldn't place. And then it hit her.

He had seen her at the fire as she received a vision. Lena had forgotten. She had forgotten to tell Merlin, and stupidly forgotten to ask his advice. Her strange actions must have sent Tristan's suspicions into a frenzy. And now she was paying for her foolish forgetfulness, pinned to a tree in the middle of a forest.

When Lena remained silent still Tristan applied even more pressure to her throat. She gasped unsuccessfully for air, managing only to make a strange and startling noise.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" shouted the utterly confused and very nearly enraged Lancelot.

"Her friend has taken Arthur somewhere." He answered still maintaining his collected demeanor.

"What does that matter! They're off forn-" Lancelot was cut off by Tristan furthering his explanation.

"They were planning to take him to the dark wizard. She has done something with Arthur." he explained as if speaking to a small child. "The other one has already lead him there. Now," he concentrated on Lena once again. "Tell me where they-" now it was Tristan who was cut off by Lancelot.

"Is that true?" he asked Lena, barely concealing the fury that was now boiling under the surface. When she didn't answer he asked again. "Is what he says true?" he shouted.

Lena didn't have many options here. Not answering, well that was getting old pretty quick. And lying? She could, and Lancelot would probably believe her, but she could never convince Tristan. They would be standing here at an impasse all night. Moreover, she didn't particularly wish to lie.

More importantly than any of that however, she needed to be there for the remainder of the meeting with Merlin. It looked as though there was no getting out of this one.

"Yes." she managed to choke out, her eyes begging him for understanding.

Lancelot grabbed Lena's arm roughly as he pulled her towards himself and away from Tristan. "Lead us to him." his voice was quiet and furious all at once.

They could be killing Arthur as he spoke! Planning a surprise attack on the knights, using their friend as a hostage. And Lena had tricked him!

Part of him knew that these were foolish exaggerations-but his friendship with Arthur meant he was obligated to protect him. They couldn't take chances. Especially on a mission as dangerous as this. They need their leader.

"He will not be harmed." Lena informed the knights. "There are no violent intentions."

She sighed, glancing between the men. "I suppose it is better if you know..." She mumbled.. "Follow me." Lancelot nodded, and walked beside Lena-his anger subdued into slight distrust.

Tristan followed behind cautiously.

Tristan wasn't all bad. In fact, he wasn't really bad at all. Distant, strange, emotionally deficient? To the untrained eye-sure. But he wasn't _bad_. Heartless? Certainly not. He cared about people-just in a much less open way than most. He cared very much about his fellow knights. They were his brothers. Perhaps he was not as close with any of them as they were amongst themselves, but they were the nearest thing to a family he knew. And Tristan was a warrior. An exceptional one. When you are an exceptional warrior you do not pity your enemy. You do not let emotions leave room for error. You are ruthless. And when it came to his enemies, Tristan was. As far as he was concerned, Lena was an enemy.

And as he followed her, he couldn't help but think Lancelot was a fool for having so much trust in a Woad. And yet, a small part of him knew that she was good. That he could trust her.

Tristan began to pick up the sound of voices in the distance, and quickened his pace.

"You betrayed me!" Arthur hissed after seeing Merlin emerge from the trees. He had followed Guinevere here under the impression that she was suggesting that they...well...He certainly hadn't expected to be lead right to the leader of his greatest enemies...

"He means you no harm." Guinevere informed him. 'Stay. Please, stay and listen.' she begged in her mind.

"Peace between us this night, Arthur Castus." Merlin spoke. His voice was strong and carried wisdom. "So Rome is leaving. The Saxons have come. The world we have known and fought for is ended. Now, we must make a new world." His eyes scanned Arthur, judging him, weighing him.

"Your world, Merlin. Not mine. I shall be in Rome," said Arthur defensively. He did not wish to fraternize with the Dark Magician.

At his words Lena silently broke through the trees surrounding the small clearing they currently occupied, followed closely by Tristan and Lancelot.

"How long, Arthur?" she asked simply before making her way towards Merlin and bowing slightly. The elderly man bowed back deeply. He gave Lancelot and Tristan questioning looks, which they returned, but nodded in approval when Lena whispered something. Again Merlin bowed to his niece.

'Why is _he_ bowing to _her_?' the thought flitted through Lancelot's mind momentarily but was replaced when Arthur, having gotten over the initial shock of seeing Lena and two of his own men arrive, began to respond to Lena's question.

"How long until _what_?" he asked suspiciously.

Lena turned to face him. "How long until the Saxons come to Rome?"

"Impossible." Arthur stated simply. "They would never."

Lena laughed sardonically. "They will." she paused at his outraged expression. "It's inevitable, really." she informed the great knight. "And all that you can do to stop it is fight now-  
" Lena was cut short by an angry Arthur.

"My knights trust me not to betray them to their enemy." he seethed, looking back to where his men now stood behind him.

Merlin spoke again. "Rome was my enemy. Not Arthur. Not his men." His dark eyes ran over the three figures before him. "We have no fight between us."

"You tell that to the knights you killed before my eyes! Whose bones are buried in this earth!" Arthur shouted. This man was a fool to think he would ever fight for him.

"We have all lost brothers." Merlin said wisely.

"**You know nothing of the loss I speak!**" Guinevere winced slightly at his sudden ferocity. "Shall I help you remember? An attack on a village. The screams of an innocent woman." he spat disgustedly, painting a picture no one wished to see.

At his words Lena felt herself begin to sway with dizziness. The hatred radiating off of Arthur was enough to send her into a sight. She needed no touch to feel the intense pain of his memories.

Thunder crackled in the distance, and Lena set her eyes upon a burning village-being attacked by woads. She watched as a young boy ran to a fence, panicked. Lena followed him, assuming that he was running to his home.

"Mother!" The boy screamed into a burning house.

"Artorius!" a woman screamed back from within. Her doorway was blocked by a burning wagon. She would never make it out.

"Arthur's mother..." Lena realized out loud. "This is how she dies..." She gave the young, frightened Arthur a sympathetic look. "Poor boy." she whispered as the young Arthur continued to scream for his mother through the blinding flames. Lena could faintly feel the heat from the blaze on her face.

She stood semi-conscious in two worlds.

While Arthur's horrible memory flashed before her eyes, she could still make out the shapes of Tristan and Lancelot in the clearing. She felt the scorching heat of the fire, but also the chilling winds of the forest. As she followed young Arthur running from his home, she heard the present-day Arthur speak.

"I ran to the burial mound of my father to free her." as he spoke she and the little boy came upon a graveyard. "To kill you." Arthur hissed, threatening Merlin with his blade.

"Father, please...let loose your sword," he begged, tears streaming from his eyes.  
Finally the boy mustered enough strength to pull Excalibur from his Father's grave, and he ran with all his speed in the direction of his home.

Lena stood motionless in the silent cemetery watching Arthur race towards his doomed mother. Once he was out of sight she turned and gazed at the mounds of dirt. Beneath them lay the bodies of countless knights. The stories of countless men.

'They were just _men_.' she realized. Not Woads or Romans or Sarmatians any longer. Just buried men.

As the cemetery around her began to flicker and fade, Lena walked slowly in the direction the young Arthur had run before her. She had stayed too long in this spot. Arthur's memory could not keep it materialized for her any longer.

She came upon the now smoldering home of Arthur, and found the boy crying in defeat. The image around her faded completely and now she saw the grown Arthur clearly as he spoke.

"I feel the heat of that fire on my face even now." Arthur whispered, his voice filled with contempt. He slowly began to lower Excalibur.

Lena felt the heat, too.

"None wished her dead. She was of our blood." Lena spoke gently. "As are you."

"My men are strong but have need of a true leader." Merlin began. "They believe you can do anything." Arthur looked a bit taken aback at that. "To defeat the Saxons, we need a master of war. Why do you think I spared you in the forest?" he asked as he walked behind his daughter, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Lancelot restrained himself from cursing at the old goat, while Tristan, who had been carefully observing the three woads, seemed unfazed by Merlin's words.

"Tell me, Merlin," Arthur nearly spat the name. "What would make you think I would _ever_ fight for you?" he demanded.

"It is your destiny." Merlin answered slowly.

"My destiny!" Arthur asked incredulously. "You cannot claim to know a man's fate."

"I cannot, no-" He paused, turning towards his niece. "But Lena is quite good at it." A smile ghosted across his aged features before disappearing. Lena gave him an odd look. She had known the knights would learn of her sight, but she hadn't expected Merlin of all people to tell them.

"Hah! Im-Impossible." Lancelot spoke up. He looked with frantic uncertainty from Merlin to Lena to Arthur and back to Lena, resting finally on Tristan beside him, who _again_ appeared completely collected.

"UselessGive me_ something_!" he muttered under his breath, giving Tristan an exasperated look.

Seeing as Lancelot wasn't going to further his opinion, Arthur took the opportunity to voice his own. "This is ridiculous," he stated, unamused. "_No one_ knows what a man's future holds."

"Your mother was a Woad." Now Lena spoke. "Surely she told you the stories of her people?"

"Yes..." Arthur answered somewhat befuddled.

"Then she must have told you of our Seer." Guinevere spoke, understanding where her cousin was taking the conversation.. "It is the greatest story our kind has ever had." At the confused faces of Lancelot and Tristan(well it was really only Lancelot who looked terribly confused, Tristan was just...well...Tristan) Guinevere continued, "One of noble blood among our race who carries with them the sight. The ability to see all things passed, all things present, and those that are yet to be. Every child of a Woad knows the tale."

"Yes..." Arthur began. "I remember such stories from my mother. But they are only stories. Tales that put children to sleep. No truth to them at all."

"And many call your Knights legend, Arthur." Merlin cut in. "Many believe that they cannot exist, for the tales of them are far too extraordinary to be truthful. Yet they are real." Merlin's eyes danced from knight to knight. "Here they stand before our very eyes. Their stories just as surreal as those of our Seer."

Still in disbelief, Lancelot made a bit of a choking noise and received a glare from Lena.

Arthur still appeared unconvinced. "To believe in such things would be heresy." He looked over Lena. "If you are trying to trick me, it is not wise." He informed her, subtle accusation in his voice.

Lena didn't know how to respond. How was she supposed to convince this man of her sight? She felt anger rising in her throat. Why should she _have_ to prove it to him? This thing had been her curse all her life. People had feared it and her, and Lena had always resented it. And now the moment she_ needed_ someone to believe it, _fear_ it even-they didn't.

Lena pointed a finger at Arthur, her sudden frustration becoming all too apparent. "I...Oh, I... will-"

"She is telling the truth." Everyone stared in momentary disbelief at Tristan, who had remained silent until now. Moving closer to her, he spoke again. "That's what it was at the fire-when your eyes turned white." It was a statement, not a question. Arthur gave a bewildered look and Lancelot made yet another sputtering noise.

"Uh..I..." again, Lena could not find her words. This time not because of anger, but the shock at hearing Tristan speak-and the fact that he was defending her! Hadn't this man had her pinned against a tree 10 minutes ago? Shaking her head clear of all confusion, Lena began to speak again. "Yes. When Lancelot grabbed my hand." she said softly. "You are right."

"Tristan?" Arthur asked, concern filling his voice. "Tristan, please tell me you do not believe this?" He asked somewhat desperately.

"I have heard the woads speak of her before. Like some sort of god." He kept his eyes fixed on Lena, and though she felt herself growing more and more uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare, she managed to hold his gaze. "We had seers in our tribes," he continued, his thick accent making the words feel heavy. "I believe her." He gave a nod to Lena.

With that Tristan turned and walked away from the odd group, heading back to camp.

"I don't believe I have ever heard that man say as much as he did in the last 30 seconds..." She mused quietly, watching as his figure disappeared through the heavy forest.

"Neither do I..." Lancelot mumbled.

Arthur stared at the ground, in shock of what he was hearing-from his own men no less. Suddenly he felt a warm body at his side. He gave a look of confusion upon realizing it was Guinevere who had walked beside him.

"It will all be explained." She said kindly, trying hard to understand his disbelief. She paused briefly before adding hesitantly "You needn't like us, or agree with us, or fight for us at all-" her dark eyes were full of sincerity as they searched his light ones " but only trust that we harbor no ill intent."

Arthur nodded. For some reason he could not disagree with her and it made him feel slightly ashamed.

"We should go back." Guinevere let a small smile creep on to her face as she spoke. "The camp will be in a frenzy if they find you are gone." Again Arthur nodded. He cast one more doubtful look at Lena, and a slightly more menacing one at Merlin before beginning to walk away.

Arthur stopped in his tracks as he heard the old man's deep voice calling out after him.

"That sword you carry is made of iron from this earth, forged in the fires of Britain.  
It was love of your mother that freed the sword, not hatred of me." He said, the same eerie wisdom riding through his words. "_Love_, Arthur." The knight could not help but hear the compassion the words held as well.

Arthur gave one look at the blade clenched tightly in his fist before leaving with Guinevere. A cool wind washed over his body, and Arthur found he could no longer feel that ever-present, haunting heat.

_It was love, Arthur._

Okay, well sorry again for the late late late update. I don't think I really like this chapter. The characters are starting to seem sort of OOC to me. Does anyone else think so? I also don't think I conveyed Tristan in the way I really wanted to...uh...so disappointed. Please tell me if anything confused you. Lord knows how often I confuse myself, so I'd really expect you all to be horribly lost by now. Lena was also kind of annoying in this one... Overall this was a pretty boring chapter and I'm really sorry to have made you wait for this crapola. I think the next chapter will be good though because I'm having a lot of neato ideas for it.

Please tell me what you think of the characters in this chapter. I really need some feedback right now.

Sorry times a bazillionmilliontrillontillionquadrillllllllllion

Blue( who wants to cry)


	8. Determination

Hey guys! Here's chapter 8. I hope you all like it. Please review. I'm feeling kinda lost with this story and all opinions/suggestions would be really great.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**NOTE**: We're adding a whole new character in this one...Woohoo. Not the ice scene yet, unfortunately. But it WILL be next chapter. And that chapter is already well on its way. Oh, and there are some places in this chapter where i've put in breaks to show the passage of time but it isn't showing up-so I hope no one will be too terribly confused.

Alright, here we go...

**Choices**

**Chapter 8**: Determination

"You waited for me?" Lena asked once she and Lancelot had walked several steps in the direction opposite Merlin. She let a coy smile dance across her face. Everyone else had left the small clearing while Merlin had been saying goodbye to Lena. But Lancelot had waited for her. She was sure he would have been mad but apparently he was taking things rather well.

"It is not safe for a _Lady _to walk these woods alone." He stated coolly in response, refusing to look Lena in the eye.

'Oh, so he wants to be huffy? Well, sir, I can play that game right back' Lena straightened her spine, drawing herself to full height. "You forget, these are _my_ woods. I'd hardly find any danger here." Lena spoke in the same apathetic fashion Lancelot had as the pair trudged onward.

"Oh, well I'd figured that one out from the meeting with the king of the Woads and whatnot," Lancelot responded mockingly. "But I was referring to the rather large army of Saxons marching behind us." They both stopped their trek and instead stood facing each other.

"I don't need you to protect me!" Lena replied indignantly. "I can handle myself you know!"

Her voice held obvious frustration. Why did he have to speak like that? Why did he have to be angry?

"I'm sure if anything _did_ happen, the wizard could just hit a Saxon with his cane and you'd be fine," Lancelot said wryly.

"You brought Arthur to Merlin!" He exploded. "You-he could have been hurt-_killed_! And you brought him there!" He pointed an accusatory finger at the Woad.

"I knew he wouldn't be hurt!" she cried defensively. "It was completely safe! And more important than you could-" Lancelot cut her off abruptly.

"No! No, I won't have any of that!" He yelled, confusing Lena.

"Any of what? Why are you so angry?" She demanded quietly, brow furrowed.

"I'm stuck here on mission I should not have been sent on, being chased by Saxon troops, facing almost inevitable death at the hands of said Saxons, and now I'm supposed to tolerate some Woad "prophet's" scheme to lure my best friend to MERLIN?" he asked angrily.

"Lancelot, please-" Lena didn't like where this was going.

"Prophet! What did you all call it-'Seer'? Yes-Seer!" Lancelot knew he was hurting her, but it didn't stop him. "You're a fortune teller!" He laughed heartily at his own words.

"Lancelot, stop it," Lena said quietly, through clenched teeth.

"No, go ahead-tell my AHAha-my fortune!" He continued laughing despite Lena's obvious discomfort. "Like one of the women in those freak shows that pass through!"

"Please stop, Lancelot." Lena spoke more menacingly than before. Through his laughter Lancelot managed to notice what a brilliantly dark shade of green Lena's eyes appeared.

He continued nonetheless, "You're...you're-a-a...a freak! Ahahahahaa-" Lancelot suddenly stopped his mocking laughter as a searing pain blazed across his face. It stung where Lena's hand had come into contact with his skin. He half noticed her storming away in the direction of their camp.

He stood motionless for several minutes. Why had he said those things to her? Arthur was fine, he was fine, Tristan was fine. No one had been hurt. Lena hadn't done a thing to anyone. Lancelot walked in a daze back to camp, pondering those very questions. Upon entering his bed he let his eyes drift over the forms of slumbering people. They lingered on Lena. He could tell she was only pretending to sleep.

As he began to drift into slumber Lancelot couldn't help but notice the heavy guilt that was slowly seeping through his body. Guilty? Lancelot _never_ felt guilty over women, or so he had thought up until now. Lancelot had certainly felt deceived, but had Lena really deserved what he said? He sighed heavily before whispering into the night, "Why am I a such an ass?"

Lena was pretending to sleep. She shut her eyes tightly, refusing to cry over a man. Cry over a man? Lena had _never_ cried over a man-especially one who thought her a freak. Freak. That word sparked so many painful memories she had pushed away for years. The words that had so long ago cascaded down into the dark recesses of her memory were bubbling up now. The things her father had said. And Lancelot was just like him. Lena had trusted him. Kissed him even. But that wasn't fair of her. How could she think for a second he would want her after finding out she was this _thing_.

Lena turned onto her back, staring into the empty black night as she asked, "Why am I such a fool?"

Lena woke with a start and nervously evaluated her surroundings. The world was wrapped in the cool gray light that lived somewhere between night and dawn. Lucan slept peacefully beside her, and Dagonet lay sleeping on the other side of him.

Sitting herself up quietly, she tried to calm her breathing. Something was not right. She turned her upper body so she could see into the wagon they all slept against, and felt around the wooden floor for a weapon/her sword. (We all know she's reaching for a weapon, just be straightforward about it!) Out of the corner of her eye, Lena thought she saw a sudden flash of scarlet. She searched more hurriedly.

Just as her pale fingers came into contact with the hilt of the sword she'd been groping for, a rough hand grabbed her arm forcefully. Lena dropped the sword and let out a startled scream before another hand covered her mouth. "Stay quiet," someone commanded.

But it was useless. Her scream had awoken Dagonet who had grabbed his axe, and begun swinging at the sudden onslaught of Roman soldiers. He stood protectively in front of the now terrified Lucan, who had also woken at the sound of Lena's scream.

Lena was pushed forward roughly, and stumbled to her knees only to be dragged up by a fistful of her dark hair. Two grubby hands dug into her arms as she faced a fat and finely dressed man. "I have the girl!" he cried. "No one move!" The triumph in his voice was sickening.

Still facing him, Lena decided it was time to speak. "Marius," she hissed in acknowledgment, taking pleasure in the idea that the man must be terrified of her. Lena imagined she wasn't looking any friendlier with the spiteful glare she was directing his way.

"Still attacking defenseless people I see."

"Satan's bride," he returned, barely masking his fear. Hah! He _was_ afraid of her. Lena almost let herself smile at the thought. "You aren't as detestable once you've stolen my wife's gowns, whore." He smiled wickedly commenting on the clothing Fulcinia had kindly given her. Lena wanted to slap that arrogant face of his.

"Funny, you're _just_ as detestable as I recalled. Maybe even more so; I'm having difficulty deciding. I hope you understand." She smiled back venomously.

Suddenly Lena was spun around, her back pressed into Marius's chest. Something cool and hard was tilted at her throat. "Don't move," he Roman ordered. His chin just reached the crook of her neck and being that she was taller than him, Lena made a good shield.

She noticed for the first time that Guinevere, Arthur, and Lancelot all stood before her-weapons at the ready. They all looked rather helpless, standing there prepared to fight, but unable to do so for fear of injuring Lena. The Woad was breathing hard, trying to remain calm.

"Now you will all follow _my_ orders!" Marius bellowed pompously to all present-which were quite a few people it appeared. "And you," he whispered to Lena, bringing his lips close enough to brush against her ear, "will work no further black magic." He nuzzled her neck in a way that made Lena queasy. Lancelot felt anger surge within himself at the sight.

"You," Turning her head so she could see his face, Lena whispered back affectionately. "You make me feel..." suddenly her melodic murmur turned into a hiss. "More disgusted than I ever thought humanly possibly you FAT, daft, thieving, gluttonous, UNHOLY _PIG_!"

Marius sharply pressed her body closer to his own, while applying more pressure to the blade at Lena's throat. "You will die as an example then!" Marius roared. "As a CHRISTIAN it is my duty to end your life, MONSTER!" He choked out furiously.

Quickly Lena grabbed the chubby, bare arm that held the knife to her neck. Concentrating all her energy on it, she whispered to no one. "Let me see."

Lena did exactly what see had intended to. Catapulting herself into a vision would send Marius into a dazed shock as well. And Lena saw. And what she saw was blackness.

Marius had no more life.

Shaking herself from the trance, Lena grabbed the blade from Marius's lose grip before he had time to recover. She spun around, hair flying out behind her, and lodged the dagger into the man's chest before he knew what was happening.

Crimson spilled down his pristine white robes as he crumpled to the snow. Lena felt an arrow whiz by and heard the thud of a second body collide with the cold ground. Guinevere had killed the man who was advancing on her cousin, and now the other Romans stood dumbstruck.

Guinevere shot another arrow at their feet before Arthur spoke. "You have a choice. You help, or you die." The Romans remained still.

"ARTORIUS!" Bors bellowed, riding in on his horse. "Do we have a problem?" He asked, unsheathing his broadsword.

Galahad and Gawain arrived next, both brandishing weapons. They surveyed the scene warily. Romans always had to cause trouble. They would kill their only chance of making it to the wall alive if it meant they got to run the show. Bastards...

The Romans were now matched in men, and far inferior in skill. "Put down your weapons!" The lead soldier commanded. "Do it, now!" Jols swooped in quickly, collecting all of the discarded swords. The Romans stalked away, closely followed by Gawain and Bors, who Arthur had sent after them. Dagonet left to check on Lucan.

Lena still stood silently in front of the corpse of Marius Honorius.

"Lena?" Guinevere asked gently, approaching her cousin, who had not taken her eyes off of the body of Marius this entire time. When Lena didn't respond Guinevere tried to lighten the mood. "It's not fair, you know, I wanted so badly to be the one that killed the pig." Speaking more seriously, she added, "He deserved it. You know that, Lena." She was mistaking the look on her cousin's face for guilt.

Arthur, Lancelot, and Galahad approached the two Woads who stood beside the dead Roman. Uncertainly, Arthur placed a comforting hand on Guinevere's shoulder. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with her cousin, the Woad would have smiled at the kind gesture.

Lena went unaware to the movements around her, staring apathetically at the bloody corpse. She had the distinct feeling that this was not yet over.

The knights and Guinevere stared at the Seer worriedly. All three men where still confused as to exactly what had just taken place between Lena and Marius, but none thought it proper to discuss at the moment.

They all stood in uncomfortable silence before Galahad began to speak. "Ahem...Arthur I think we should-" He threw another glance at Lena. "We should start to get everyone on their-" He was interrupted by a sudden scream from Lena, who fell backwards and began scrambling away from the body of Marius.

"Lena!" Galahad inquired, moving towards the Woad. "Lena what's wrong with you?" He bent down and tried to grab her arm, but was stopped by Guinevere.

"Don't touch her." Guinevere commanded, putting herself between Galahad and her cousin. "You must let it end, lest you drag her out of it before it's done." Arthur and Lancelot both seemed to understand enough of what she was saying, but Galahad looked from Woad to Woad helplessly. "It will be explained to you soon." She said in a dismissive manner, glancing back towards her shaking cousin.

"What do you want?" Lena pleaded miserably. Arthur saw the pained expression that flashed across Guinevere's face at her words. All four stood uncomfortably around Lena, who sat, oddly clutching the snow-covered ground beneath her. The men noticed, for the first time, that her eyes were blank and white.

She had been standing there, contemplating the strange feeling she was receiving; distantly aware of the people around her, as she stared at the body of the man she had just killed.

It wasn't that Lena was guilty, oh no, the man had deserved to die and she would kill him with out a moment's thought if she had the opportunity to do so again-but something was still off.

She stared determinately at his corpse, waiting for something to happen. She could tell how the others were watching her. Even Guinevere looked worried. No use scaring them. She was just being paranoid. Nothing was going to happen.

And then, for the second time in much less than 12 hours, Lena realized how very wrong that idea was. A cold hand shot out and grabbed her ankle. Marius, eyes wide and blank as she knew hers turned during sights, was clawing at her leg.

Lena screamed and threw herself away from him. Stumbling backwards she fell, and tried to shuffle away from the man who was supposed to be dead. For an instant Galahad clouded her vision, but again she saw Marius. He laughed mercilessly at her fear.

"What do you want?" she whispered. Even in death this man would not leave her be. "I've killed you!" She tried to sound intimidating. "You cannot harm me." How could this be happening? Marius was dead on the ground! The wine dark blood that stained his robes were a fresh reminder of the dagger that had just plunged into his heart! _He was dead_!

"You most of all should know how little death means." He stated, as if reading her mind. He came closer to her still, a sick sort of satisfaction adorning his features. "I come bearing a message for you, devil girl."

Lena stared confused. Why would Marius, dead or alive, have a message for her? "Out with it!" She commanded, making herself let go of any fear the man had over her.

He laughed again, finding her sudden courage mockable. "Oh you can try to be brave, you little whore, but bravery won't save them."

"Save who?" Lena demanded, not allowing herself to be put off by him.

"All of them." he hissed.

Faces flashed before her eyes. Woad after Woad after Woad. Guinevere, Merlin, Arthur, Dagonet, Galahad, Gawain, Lancelot, Tristan, Bors, all their faces shown between the countless friends and strangers. Blood everywhere. She watched in horror as they all fell lifeless to the stained earth.

A blade to Tristan's throat, arrows to Dagonet and Gawain, A mace to Galahad's skull, an axe that cut down Bors, crossbow piercing Lancelot's heart, Guinevere-dear cousin of hers-being mauled and viciously de-robed by an ugly Saxon with a braided beard. And Arthur last of all. Noble, loyal Arthur being stabbed through the ribs. Excalibur slipped through his pale hands, and the Saxons marched onward.

"You will try, you stupid little girl, and fail." Deathly pale, Marius laughed again. "There is nothing you can do to save them. They will fight, and they will die._ All doomed_." Another mocking laugh.

"That's not true!" Lena yelled. "That isn't true!" It was a desperate plea. Suddenly Lancelot, Arthur, Galahad, and Guinevere surrounded her. Lena looked from face to face, breathing hard. "I-I it isn't, wasn't ...he was there..." She mumbled incoherently. Marius's dead body lay where it had before, feet away. Lena had not realized that it wasn't real. She had not felt herself slip into a sight.

Guinevere was at her side in an instant. "Tell me what you saw." Her familiar voice leant Lena strength. She felt her heart rate slow to its normal pace and her breathing calm considerably. She remained silent however, as the three men and Guinevere continued to watch her. "Lena," Her cousin started gently "You must tell me what it was so that we do not forget it." Lena sometimes lost sights. They were, to her, like dreams. On occasion one wakes remembering their dreams, but once they have shaken the sleep from their mind and stepped out of bed they can no longer recall the night's strange stories. Guinevere knew that anything that had inspired so much fear in her cousin was too important to be forgotten. "Tell me Lena, what it was you saw."

Lena shook her head no. "I-I can't" She felt tears welling up in her eyes. Guinevere was here. Arthur, Galahad, and Lancelot were all here. She had been so sure they were gone. Seeing it, hearing Marius's words- she had become so incredibly afraid that they were gone. She hugged her cousin suddenly, letting the tears spill from her eyes. "I thought you...he came to me-told me horrible things." Guinevere hugged her back, still confused as to what her cousin was talking about.

"Who told you things, Lena?" She asked, still hugging Lena tightly.

"Marius." Lena offered feebly.

Guinevere pulled back suddenly to look her cousin in the eye. "But he's dead." She stated nervously. "That is not possible." Lena shrugged her shoulders awkwardly. She didn't understand either. "That has never happened before. Has it?" She asked hurriedly.

"Never." Lena agreed.

"Then, how could that be?" Guinevere didn't like this at all.

"I know not." Lena's brow was furrowed as she stared at the snow and nervously bit her bottom lip. The sound of footsteps brought her attention to the man behind her. Bors was approaching them.

"What's this!" he called happily. Apparently the fight had him in good spirits. Lena wished she could say the same. "You all having a party without old Bors?" As he came closer the knight could clearly see the somber, and somewhat confused, expressions harbored by all. They all stood in awkward silence for a moment. The moment ended when Tristan rode in on his horse. It seemed he had found time to go out scouting after the ordeal that took place last night. Bors was the first to call out to his fellow knight. "How many did you kill?"

"Four," the scout replied curtly.

"Not a bad start to the day," Bors laughed, amazed by his own wit.

Tristan threw a crossbow from his horse. It landed with an ominous thump before his commander's feet. "Armor piercing." He informed Arthur breathlessly. "They're close. We have no time."

Lena stood suddenly. All traces of her earlier fear were gone, and she took on a diplomatic air. Things had to be done-and fear would not stop her. She would do that which she could. "They're moving faster than anyone anticipated. I have to go for help." Lena began walking in the direction of the horses, determination making her bold.

Marius was wrong. She could save them. She needed help-but she would not let them die.

"Lena," Guinevere called out, following her. "Lena, help from whom?" she asked, confused. The knights were all following the two Woads now.

"We are by the River Io, are we not?" Lena asked, stopping and turning to face the group. Tristan nodded. "Yes, that means Balor's outpost is near."

"Yes," Guinevere stated. Guinevere remembered the Woad named Balor. He had served her father well and been granted a large Woad settlement to rule as a provincial governor, loyal to Merlin.

"His outpost should be southeast of here. But you cannot expect him to aid us at such short notice." It was an unreasonable demand.

"Yes I can." Lena answered, trying not to sound too childish. "I can ask him to send several of his troops. They're all good riders and know the land, we will be able to catch up with you before the Saxons do." She spoke directly to Arthur now. "If we have to fight, you cannot expect nine people to protect all these civilians. The Woad settlement will be evacuated as the Saxon march through either way." Lena explained.

"Merlin does not intend to call upon them to fight, but we will." Guinevere admired the way Lena was taking control of the situation. "I will send the majority of their troops along the coast, to meet us back at Hadrian's Wall, incase of further confrontation," Lena didn't know why she had added the 'incase', there would most certainly be further confrontation. " but they can spare a small Calvary to assist us now." Arthur looked uncertain. "The Saxons can be avoided no longer. Let me leave. Let me help you." Lena was pleading with him now. "I'll follow _your_ command, Arthur."

The Roman questioned it for a moment. "Very well. Lena, you ride to this Woad outpost and gather troops." He turned to his knights. "Lancelot, you will escort her. When you return, we will discuss today's...events..." Then more quietly, so only Lena could hear, he added, "I will explain to the men as best I can-if that is what you wish. They will be suspicious." The Woad nodded in assent. "You two get on your way then." He directed at Lena and Lancelot. "Make haste."

"Ah! But I-" Lancelot was cut off by Arthur, who was in no mood for his nonsense.

"Tristan, You ride ahead." He now gestured to all of the camp. "Bors, Dag, Gawain, Get everyone moving, _quickly_." He looked back to where the body of Marius lay. "Galahad, I'll help you put the body in a wagon," Galahad gave a look of protest. "We cannot leave him here to rot...no matter how much he deserves it." Lastly, he turned to Guinevere. "Make sure the Lady Fulcinia is well. And get yourself in a wagon." Arthur turned and walked with Galahad to the body as all the others followed their orders. Guinevere stood momentarily mesmerized with the man she knew, without a doubt, could be king.

Lena walked to the horses, followed closely by Lancelot, both somewhat displeased with Arthur's decision to send them out together. Lancelot mounted his steed while Lena stood impatiently below.

"What am I supposed to ride?" She asked, looking up so she could see his face. The man thought she was a freak, she recalled. He kissed her-then called her a freak. Why in the gods' names had Arthur made her leave with _him_?

"Only one horse." He informed her, patting his saddle. He was trying to hide his discomfort by resorting to his usual cocky manner. She hated him. He could see it. She hated him. He'd been wrong to insult her and this morning had proven that. She wasn't a freak-but she sure as hell hated him.

"There isn't another I could use?" she asked hopefully. Why did she have to ride practically in his lap? This wasn't fair.

"Lady, we've none to spare, and no time to argue over such things." He called her 'Lady' just to annoy her. He knew she was already angry, why was he_ trying_ to annoy her? What was he doing? "We will have to share." Lena gave a sigh and climbed in front of him on the horse. No use wasting time.

"Very well," she mumbled as they set off, riding quickly in the direction of Balor's outpost.

She would not let her stomach twist in that strange and pleasant way at the thought of Lancelot being so close, Lena decided. She would not let her heart strain thinking of what an enormous lunatic he must see her as now-having watched her fall into a sight firsthand. Lena would do only what she had to now.

She would save the men. Her people had dragged them into this war-and Lena would make sure they got out all right.

Lena could not let them lose the freedom they so long deserved.

Marius was wrong. He had to be.

Okay. That's done then. Thank you for reading. Next chapter we get to meet Balor-yippee.

Please Review, they make my day-and right now I really need some feedback. Lack of inspiration is attacking me. Come on, What do you guys think? Like it? Hate it? Tell me and I'll love you.

**Review Responses**

**Lilo**-Thank you! I'm glad you could see that it was important for establishing information. It makes me feel better that people aren't just pissed to get a boring chapter. (I would be...heh)

**Katie**-Haha. Wow, thanks. Makes me feel good to know you "love love love it" I personally didn't really like that last chapter-but it's good to know that you did.

**Cal**-Thanks for reviewing all the chapters! It must have taken you so long. I like Etta too, I'm planning on including her in later chapters a lot more. And we will get to find out more about Lena's past. I added the father thing specifically for that reason-it WILL be explained. And I don't want to give away the ending so you'll have to wait to see who lives and who dies. Sorry.

**Just2spooky**-Thanks, I'm glad to update!

**Kayla**-I'm glad to know you enjoy the story, and that you're still reading. Thank you!

**Raz 42492**- Glad to make you happy dance-and I'm trying to update sooner. This is a little sooner. And my computer problems are going to be gone soon enough.

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY**-It's nice to know you like the story, and I'm updating! I'll try to keep updating as frequently as possible.

**Evenstar-mor2004**-I have to agree with you that good old chapter 7 need a little-well a lot-more umphf. Thanks for your review. It made me feel a lot better about that chapter. Do you think this one had the umphf that was so badly needed? I would love to know what you think of it.

To everyone else who reviewed before-THANK YOU! I wish I could respond to each and every one of you but I don't have the energy or time. Sorry. But know that all those reviews were sincerely appreciated and made me want to write for you guys.

fijimermaid-THANK YOU. Best Beta ever.

Blue


	9. Balor

Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. This has been a really bad few weeks- the end of school, exams, break ups, fights, bigger fights, deaths even. AN all around catastrophe. I think I'm going to discontinue this story. Life just sucks too much right now to be at all inspired, and I feel like I'm wasting you readers' time by taking it any further.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**Choices**

**Chapter 9**: Balor

"Stop here." Lena ordered as the came upon a small cliff that dropped sharply into an icy valley.

"Nothing's here." Lancelot pointed out.

"Nothing you can see." Lena stated knowingly as she jumped from the large horse. Lancelot followed as she perched herself on the edge of the cliff. He watched uncertainly as she let out a set of three whistles. Nothing happened. Lena whistled again.

"Lena, what exactly are-" Lancelot was silenced by the hand she placed over his mouth. He struggled momentarily, but stopped upon hearing a return whistle. Lena copied it, and soon he could hear footsteps growing near. A blue Woad boy approached them cautiously, keeping a strung bow pointed at the pair.

"Who are you?" He asked rudely while taking in their foreign attire.

"Take me to your captain." Lena ignored his question. They had no time for formalities. "I have business with Balor."

The boy didn't drop his arrow. "Tell me who you are or I'll have to shoot you." He answered stupidly. Lena sighed. She had no time for a teenage guard who fancied himself wise.

"Lady Lena of the Woads, and this is my companion Sir Lancelot. You will take us to Balor immediately. We haven't time for this." She stated calmly.

The frustrating boy laughed. "You expect me to think_ you're_ Lady Lena?" He gave her a once over. "The Seer has been missing for months-and wouldn't be wearing Roman garb. Nor would she be companion to a knight from Hadrian's Wall." He stated insolently, recognizing Lancelot's name. "You might be stupid enough to try and trick me, but I am not daft enough to fall for it." Pompous little twit.

"Fine, _Boy_." Lena marched up to him, ignoring the arrow pointed directly at her. "I _am_ Lady Lena." She let herself sound indignant as she pulled her shoulder out from the dress Fulcinia had leant her. Pointing to a prominent tattoo on her upper arm, she gave the Woad boy a frightening smile. To Lancelot it was just one of her blue swirls, but apparently it held more significance than that. The boy dropped his bow and fell to his knees, a look of terror now adorning his young face.

"Forgive me." He pleaded. Lena cocked an eyebrow. "I'd no idea!" He had called the Seer stupid! He had insulted the _Seer_!

"Yes well I thought I had cleared things up when I TOLD you who I was." Lena gave him a harsh look. He let out a whimper. Ah, the poor boy was terrified of the punishment he thought he'd receive for speaking so rudely to Lena. She gave a sympathetic sigh. "Come on, up with you. We haven't any time for groveling." The boy stood quickly, keeping his eyes downcast. "No harm done-just get us to Balor as fast as you can and we'll call it even, how about that?" She asked. The boy nodded, relieved.

He led them through the trees quickly. They had traveled a good ways on foot before Lena could make out the familiar Woad village. Lancelot was close behind her, leading his horse over the narrow path. Once they reached the actual settlement the boy ran ahead to inform his commander of the Seer's arrival. Someone tied up Lancelot's horse for him and the pair marched to the main building, where Lena knew she could find Balor. Entering, she saw only strangers scurrying about.

"Balor!" Lena called out. She needed to find him. They needed to get back to Arthur. "Balor!" She was getting frustrated as her eyes scanned the room desperately trying to locate her old friend. They had wasted enough time with the guard boy, things were going too slowly! Where the hell was Balor?

Suddenly a pair of arms enveloped her from behind. She struggled before hearing a familiar voice. "The gods have brought you back to us!" Lena was spun around to face Balor, who was smiling enthusiastically. He hugged her again, laughing. Lena smiled in return, taking in the sight of him. He'd grown taller since the last time she had seen him. His shoulders were wider; his flaxen hair was longer and wilder. His blue eyes danced with the same mirth she had seen in him before, as a child. "How good it is to know you are safe!" He cried happily.

Balor took in Lena as well. It had been so long since they last met. Too long. The Woad was thinner, and frailer looking than he remembered. She was wearing Roman clothing, but looked clean enough. Her hair was darker and longer, and her eyes held a certain lack luster quality that pained him. He hadn't ever seen her look this...burdened

Lancelot was distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't belong here. The Woads were giving him such scrutinizing looks. They could tell he was a knight-and seemed none too happy about it. He didn't particularly like being surrounded by Woads, but had the sense to keep his distaste hidden. The knight stood an awkward distance from Balor and Lena, watching. Why did they have to hug? Lancelot cleared his throat in a very unsubtle manner, gaining Lena's attention.

Remembering her mission, Lena finally began to speak. "Ahem, Balor, this is Lancelot. We've come here to speak with you." She saw how apprehensively the men evaluated each other. "We are here to discuss the coming of Saxon troops." Balor didn't respond. He and Lancelot were too busy staring each other down. "Balor, this is an urgent matter..." Why was he not listening? "Balor?"

"You bring a _knight_ to my village?" He asked accusatively, finally looking at her. "A _knight?_"

"HE is not your enemy, and that is not your concern this day." She answered sternly. She would not let this become something. They needed to be quick, and she would not let Balor's prejudices deter them. Lena stepped back, standing beside Lancelot. She might have been mad at him, but Lena was making a point. "Now, we need to gather all of your-" Balor cut her off. Lena sighed. She had really hoped he wouldn't make things difficult.

"I will discuss this with you once this _murderer_ has left my village." He stared directly at Lancelot, though his words were meant for Lena.

Well, Lena could be difficult too. "He is no more murderer than you, and he is my companion. Lancelot is welcome here, in my _uncle's_ village by _my_ command. And you _will_ respect that." Lena didn't like using her authority, but she _did_ have authority over him. She would use it if she had to. "The knights are not our enemy. Only Rome and the Saxons. And the Saxons are creating quite a problem, if you haven't noticed." Lena held his gaze. "Now will you help me, or will I have to gather your men on my own?"

Balor was silent for a moment before calling out to a male Woad. "Coeus!" A young Woad approached, and bowed to both Balor and Lena. "Enough. I want you to rally all the fighters. Make sure all the elderly and children start on their way into hiding. Once the warriors are gathered they shall wait for my directions, understood?" Coeus nodded. "Go!" Balor commanded. "I suppose you'll want more than just that?" He asked Lena as he motioned for her and Lancelot to follow him into another room.

"Yes." She answered, starting to follow. She looked back to see Lancelot hadn't moved, ran back, grabbed his arm, and dragged him after her. "We need a cavalry of 30, more if you can manage." Balor gave her an incredulous look.

"30?" He asked. "No. I cannot spare that many. We are severely lacking in troops as it is." At Lena's look of confusion he elaborated. "Over the last two months Merlin has been summoning the best of my warriors. I suppose you don't know because you've been missing, but The Wizard has been planning this for quite some time. Most of the able fighters have already left this village. And we will need a portion of the warriors left here to protect those in hiding. Most, however, will be sent down the coast. The biggest cavalry I could supply you with is," he paused, counting in his head the Woads he knew he could bring. "8. Including myself."

"That will have to do then." Lena answered, slightly disheartened. "They will follow us back to the caravan lead by Arthur. The Saxons are about to battle our Knights on the ice. Without help they stand almost no chance." Lena explained.

"Castus? You want my fighters to protect _him_?" Balor was still uncomfortable helping the knights who had killed his kind for years. "What shall I tell them? Risk your lives for the man who has shed the blood of our people for the last 15 years?" Lancelot was liking this Woad less and less.

"You will tell them to fight, by order of Merlin, to protect the only man who can lead us to our freedom." Lena answered. Balor nodded begrudgingly. "Now, you tell the cavalry not to wear their war paint or gear. I don't want them to look like Woads."

"What? Why?" Lena's mind was working too quickly for Balor to stay on pace.

"We can't have the Saxons realize that they are at war with the Woads. As of now they are simply on a rampage against Britain. _Roman_ Britain. And, well, Arthur too, but that is only because he is in their way. The less they know the better. So keep the men in tunics and whatever armor you've collected over the years. We'll want them to look more or less like Knights. I hope it should not be too difficult to clothe 8 Woads."

"Right." Balor nodded, taking in his orders. "I'll get the cavalry armed and ready; you and…the Knight should start to ride back to Castus. Where are we to meet you?"

"Ride as quickly as you can to the frozen lake that branches from the Io River. Be sure you go unnoticed." Balor gave a brusque node of assent, and began to walk away. "Balor!" Lena called out before jogging over to where he stopped. "Be safe." She smiled a little at his exasperated expression. "And thank you, old friend. This means more than you know." She hesitated for a second before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging the Woad tightly. Balor hugged back, lifting her off the ground slightly.

He laid a soft kiss on the top of her head. "For you, Lena, anything." And then he walked away.

Lena and Lancelot had quickly found their horse and begun to ride. Lancelot, who was in a worse mood after being stared at by Woads, staring at Woads, and staring at two specific Woads hug...several times, was generally displeased at the moment. He was also still, though in denial about it, ashamed for treating Lena as he had. The pair had been riding in silence for a while now, and Lancelot could bare it no longer. And so, because of this rather unhappy state he found himself in, Lancelot did the only thing his mood and mind would allow. He began to complain.

"Eight Woads. Eight!" He let out a grumble. "We rode all this way for eight Woads! I hope you realize what a complete and total waste of time this was. Now we're-" Lena, who had already had enough, carelessly interrupted the Knight.

"Firstly, we have not ridden very far at all. The caravan is moving slowly enough that we can make good time without wearing ourselves out." She could hear Lancelot sighing in annoyance behind her, but Lena continued nonetheless. "And it was by no means a waste. We've nearly doubled the amount of people fighting on our side. Which might not be saying much, but take it from someone who knows; you cannot disregard the potential contribution one person can make simply because they are only one. One person, let alone eight, can make all the difference." Lancelot stayed silent. It wasn't fair that she was right. "Fate is fickle, Lancelot. The presence and choices of one person are enough to make more change than you could imagine." She laughed a little. "I know what I'm talking about." Lena felt him shift in the saddle behind her.

"Uh, yes." He began hesitantly. "About that. I, well you see, I wanted to," He cleared his throat. "to tell you that, well that, I very well might, uh, I , well you see, it's just that I don't mean-"

"I'm not angry anymore, Lancelot. I don't know why really, but I'm just not." Lena turned a bit so that she could see his face. "I understand that, well, you had every right to be confused. And upset too, I suppose. I'm sorry as well, for overreacting. Apology accepted."

Lancelot gave a sigh of relief. That had been easy enough. "You could have just let me squirm, you know." He smirked a little.

"Yes. But as much fun as that would have been, you _did_ pull me from a dungeon of rotting corpses. And the way I see it, I owe it to you." Lena smiled as she heard Lancelot chuckle behind her.

"Well in that case, just to be sure, friends?" He asked amiably.

Lena nodded. "Friends." Though it was a relief to end her argument with the knight, Lena couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed at the resolution. "Friends" most certainly did not speak to how she felt. But Lena brushed it off. Now was not the time for such things. And she was simply glad to know that at least one of the knights was still a friend. "The others will know by now. Arthur intended to explain the sight." Lancelot noticed the change in her voice. "I suppose things will change a bit." She gave a grim chuckle. "They always do."

Lancelot didn't know how to respond. "I'm sure they will treat you no differently."

"Just as you didn't?" Lena shook her head. "I would be foolish to expect anything less."

Lancelot remained quiet behind her as he realized something. He could apologize to Lena a thousand times over, and she would forgive him sincerely, but his actions would never be forgotten. This wasn't an isolated incident for her, that much was clear. Life had taught Lena what to expect of others, and Lancelot had proven it right.

Okay, so I'm really sorry but no review responses this time because I really can't comprehend actually taking the effort to do something like that. Just to **Fijimermaid**: I tried to e-mail this to you, but I never got anything back. So I decided to put it up before my finals started, because I knew I'd never get around to it later. Sorry you didn't get a chance to look at it. Maybe you didn't get the e-mail? Don't worry about it though, just work on it when you get the time if you could. Sorry, I don't know why but I feel like that sounded really rude of me. Anyways, thanks as always.

**NOTE**: So I'm pretty sure that this will be the last chapter. At least for a while. Maybe I'll come back to it when my life gets a little more put together. Things have just been so hectic and difficult and….blah. I don't want to give you guys a summary of my problems so let's just leave it at that. Thanks to everyone who ever read or reviewed. It means a lot to me.

Blue


	10. A Vision of Life

**REVIEW RESPONSES (**These include all reviews of both chapter 8 and 9:

**Tracy137**: Thanks! I'm glad you could picture every scene. I was worried that it would get very confusing with the whole Marius from beyond the grave thing. And though I'm quite sure my story isn't "brilliant" I'm very very flattered—thank you.

**irishfire**: I felt like Lena and Lancelot needed a bit of tension, you know, to keep things from getting too boring. And pertaining to the whole Marius thing, I'm very sorry if it got too foggy to understand. Lena is not imagining it (she hasn't gone completely mad or anything). Because of the sight, however, she is the only one who can see Marius. Marius did come to her because she killed him-but also because he wouldn't have been able to reach any of the others. She doesn't receive visions from everyone she kills. This is the only time it has ever happened, which is partially why it scared the hell out of her. Really very sorry if that didn't make sense the first time. Does it even make sense this time? Sorry! Tell me if you need more clarification, I'm happy to give it. And thank you so much for your review of chapter 9. It made me feel a lot better, and I really needed it. Thanks so much.

**Raz 42492**: Thanks, and well, I've updated (twice! eek!).

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY**: Nice pen name! And I'm trying to hurry with the updates, really, I am.

**Meraculas**: Thanks!

**just2spooky**: Thank you, and I hope youlike where I have taken it.

**Evenstar-mor2004**: Thanks for your review. It was very nice. And "lancey poo" will have a lot more competition in the future (hah).

**Kissed-luck**: Here's an update!

**Neveah101**: Actually, your review really did make a difference. I was feeling like all hell the other day and I thought about what you said and I started writing just to vent. Next thing you know, I've got a new chapter. I was really sure I was going to throw this whole fic away, but you kind of made me think twice about it.( sorry if that sounds really creepy and/or corny…I didn't mean for it to.)

**Reese**: I'm sorry if you don't like my story, but there are better, more productive ways to tell me that than spouting off pointless, crude, juvenile insults. If you think this story is as awful as you've made it sound, then feel free not to read it. Honestly, I appreciate reviews that criticize my work because they help my writing grow. I can handle someone telling me what I should work on or what needs help, but I refuse to take into consideration a review so full of catty name calling that it is rendered completely meaningless. Though your review made it clear that you don't like this story, you didn't name anything specifically wrong with, or offer any advice. Furthermore, I'm appalled that you would have the gall to start insulting my beta (who is very nice, and has only been involved with the grammar and, on rare occasions, sentence arrangements of this story—which, by the way, makes it ludicrous for you, in any way, to blame her for detracting anything from the story ) for absolutely no reason. You have no idea what kind of people we are, and have no right to say such offensive and untrue things just because…I don't know….you're going insane over not liking my story. Please take your rude, immature behavior elsewhere….cause, sweetheart, nobody here wants any of that.

**NOTE**: I know that I said I was throwing this story away, and I just about had…but some very encouraging reviews, not to mention a sudden spark of inspiration, changed my mind. Sorry to pull something like this on you guys…but I hope you'll all just be happy with the new chapter. Thanks to everyone!

**NOTE2: **ICE CHAPTER! Haha…finally…

**Choices**

**Chapter 10 (Double digits! Oh boy….): A Vision of Life (**can you say corn-tastic?)

They had arrived in time. Lancelot and Lena had traveled back in a large semicircle as to avoid crossing the lake, but they'd over estimated and ended up having to cut their way backwards through half of the caravan. By the time they were just breaking through the end a familiar voice caught Lena's ear.

"Lena! Lena!" It was Etta. Lancelot stopped his horse. "Lena, what's going on?" She looked frantic. "The Knights have all lined up at the lake's edge, their going to fight the Saxons!" At the looks she received from both Lancelot and Lena, Etta realized they intended to fight as well. "It's madness!"

Lancelot noticed for the first time that the woman was carrying a sword. "What are you doing with that?" He gestured towards the weapon.

Etta looked almost confused for a moment before looking down and suddenly remembering the giant weapon in her grip. "Oh! Galahad gave it to me. He said I might need it."

"Well wasn't that thoughtful." Lancelot muttered. Lena elbowed him in response.

"Use it if you have to, Etta." Lena nodded curtly. "Stay with your children." She gave a small smile in farewell before Lancelot kicked the horse and they were off.

"Lena, its total madness!" Etta called out hopelessly. It was of no use.

By the time the pair had reached the lake, Balor and his crew were just arriving as well. As the Saxon drums grew louder, Lena decided quick introductions were in order.

"Balor!" She motioned for the man to come over. "This is Artorius Castus. Be nice." Lena turned to address the entire congregation. "Woads, these are the Knights. Knights, these are our Woads." Obvious animosity hung in the air. "We focus on the _Saxons_ today, and we _all_ listen to Arthur." She directed the last part to her own kind, though it was currently difficult to distinguish between the two, as the Woads were now in typical Roman armor.

As she finished, the Saxons reached the opposite edge of the lake and began to file in.

"Hold until I give the command." Arthur yelled. The 17 warriors had already organized into a long chain, and each person had a bow at hand.

Lena could hear as Lancelot spoke to her cousin beside her. "You look frightened." He sighed. Lena scoffed. "That's a large number of lonely men out there." The knight stated.

Guinevere arched an eyebrow as the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Don't worry, I won't let them rape you." Lena laughed at Lancelot's expression.

"Don't be so rude, cousin." Lena started. "Maybe he likes that sort of thing." Lena strung her bow. "There are people like that, you know." Guinevere laughed as well, but Lancelot simply ignored the statement and looked to Arthur.

One of the Saxons fired an arrow, but it landed only halfway across the ice, and then skidded to a halt several yards from the feet of the knights.

"I believe they're waiting for an invitation." Arthur stated. "Bors, Tristan."

"We're far out of range!" Guinevere protested in confusion. Arthur simply smiled as the two men launched their arrows, which promptly pierced several Saxons. Guinevere looked impressed.

The Saxons began to come further out onto the ice, trying to get within shooting range of their opponents.

"Aim for the wings of the ranks." Arthur commanded as all began to fire. "Make them cluster."

The Woads and Knights continued to kill Saxon after Saxon as they made their way across the frozen lake. The ice gave several screeches, but failed to actually crack. The Saxon leader seemed to suddenly realize what Arthur was trying to do, and started screaming at his men. "Hold the ranks!" He shouted ferociously. "Hold the ranks! Hold the ranks! I'd kill you myself!" They were getting closer, and still the ice refused to break.

"It's not going to crack. Fall back. Fall back!" Arthur commanded, setting down his bow and drawing Excalibur. "Prepare for combat." There were too many Saxons. They were doomed in hand to hand combat. Everyone began to draw their blades, but suddenly Dagonet grabbed his axe, let out a war cry, and raced forward. "DAG!" Bors screamed out.

"Cover him!" Ordered Arthur. Everyone redrew their bow and resumed the massacre of Saxon troops.  
Lena could hear the bald leader's shouts. "Archers! Move! Move!" She dislodged an arrow then reloaded as quickly as she could and shot a Saxon with his bow aimed at Dagonet, who was currently hacking at the ice in an attempt to break it open.  
"Move! Move!" The leader screamed as the ice began to crack.  
"The ice is breaking!" Someone shouted stupidly. The Knights and Saxons continued to furiously launch arrows at one another as Dagonet continued to slam his axe into the ice.  
"Kill him!" The little bald man cried. Lena aimed an arrow at him, but narrowly missed, managing only to scrape his arm a bit. 

The Knights and Woads were doing a good job of covering Dagonet as he continued to assault the frozen water. "Dag!" Bors cried again, sick with worry.

The ice gave one reverberating screech, and suddenly Saxons everywhere were going under.

The piece of ice Dagonet was standing on teetered dangerously. He was now trapped between water and Saxons. "He's going to fall in!" Lena yelled to Arthur. She looked to the other knights. No one was moving. "Idiots!" She called before dropping her bow and running forward. Guinevere caught her suddenly.

"You barely know him, Lena!" She pleaded. "You don't have to save him!" Lena shook her head and pulled away. "You will DIE!"

Lena furrowed her brow and gave Guinevere a scrutinizing stare. "I will not let your selfish fears stop what is right." Guinevere stood dumbstruck as her cousin raced forward.

"Cover her!" Guinevere screamed, picking her bow back up, and beginning to fire with a new determination.

Lena ran without hesitation toward Dagonet, who now stood in an exhausted daze with his axe at his side. "Dagonet!" She yelled, skidding to a halt in front of the water that separated them. Shouts could be heard from Bors and Arthur, who were now running towards the pair. "Dagonet!" The man had a blank look on his face and wasn't responding. He fell forward into the water suddenly, and as he went down Lena spotted two arrows protruding from his back. Lena reached into the freezing water and grappled for him hopelessly. Arthur and Bors were getting closer; she heard their footsteps behind her. The footsteps were drowned out, however, when an unforgiving moan was heard beneath her. Lena tried to scramble backwards, away from the creaking ice, but before she knew it, she too was drowning in the freezing lake of dead Saxons.

The shock was paralyzing, but when she felt something tugging at her leg, Lena was fearfully snapped back into life. She kicked frantically, trying to get away from whatever it was, but quickly realized that it was the partially alive Dagonet holding on to her foot. Lena reached down and grabbed his hand, then began to struggle upwards. She could still make out the hole they had fallen through, and she knew they had to reach it quickly. The ice was crashing around on the surface, and soon they would be trapped for good. The heavy Roman dress was weighing her down, not to mention Dagonet-who could barely kick, let alone help swim. Lena felt his hand slacken in her grip as he tried to pull away. She realized with dismay that he was trying to save her. He didn't want to drag her down.

Lena refused to let go however. Dagonet might have thought himself as good as dead, but Lena knew better. From the moment she had touched his hand, she'd begun to see things. She didn't understand why she could receive sights and remain conscious and moving at the same time, perhaps it was simply her will to survive that allowed it. She didn't know, and at the moment, she didn't much care. But what she knew was that Dagonet's future was not the blackness of death like that of Marius, fated to die. No, Lena saw a house and a wife and children. Lena saw Sarmatia and freedom. Lena saw life. And as long as she did, she would not let go of his hand. So she swam upwards, using all the strength in her body, and finally, desperately, her free hand reached the ice and air above. Giving one hard kick she managed to stick her face out of the water and breath. "HELP!" She screamed, and the retreating figures of Arthur and others she could not recognize began to run back.

Suddenly she was being pulled from the freezing water. Whoever was pulling her seemed surprised by the amount of weight, and pulled harder on her arm, almost ripping her from Dagonet. But Lena continued to grasp his hand, and soon the both of them were laid out on the ice. Arthur wrapped her in his cloak, and Bors began to wail over Dagonet.

"Stay with me! Dagonet! Stay with me!"

"Get him to a wagon!" Lena choked out.

"There's no use." Arthur started shakily as he picked Lena up. "He's dead."

Lena struggled in his arms. "I'll tell you when there's no use! Get him to a bloody wagon!" She could barely breathe, let alone speak. The last thing she saw was the look of surprise that adorned Arthur's face. Then she let the blackness take her.

Guinevere sat next to Arthur by the fire. As the Saxons were no longer chasing them, Arthur had decided it was best for all to make camp for the night. The Woads had made their own fire, but Guinevere wanted to stay with Arthur, no matter how awkward it was.

Lena and Dagonet were both under the care of Fulcinia and Etta. Lena, they said, was simply ill from the cold; she had no arrow wounds. Hypothermia had begun to set in for both of the patients, but as Lena had been in the water for a shorter amount of time, her likelihood of it being fatal was much less than Dagonet. Etta and Fulcinia gave her a good chance of recovering shortly. The fate of Dagonet, however, was much less certain. The man had sustained several serious wounds, and been exposed to the water for a very long time. In all honesty, according to Etta, he would not make it through the night.

His brothers in arms and Guinevere all sat silently and somberly around the fire. Etta and Fulcinia had insisted on a no visitor's policy, as their patients were much too sick. So Guinevere was kept outside to worry with everyone else, as she took solace in Arthur's presence.

"It was foolish of her." Galahad spoke, keeping his eyes on the fire before him. "She should be dead along with him."

"Dagonet may yet survive." Arthur reminded the youngest of the knights. Gawain scoffed miserably.

"Don't give him false hope, Arthur." Gawain said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Dag's a dead man. The girl was better saving herself."

Guinevere laughed cryptically. "She couldn't do that." It came out quiet, but the men were all listening. "All she sees are people dying. Everyday, over and over. She doesn't even dream at night." She flashed her eyes to Arthur. He had already explained the sight to the rest of the men. "She just watches people she doesn't know die. And she can't help it, can't prevent any of it." Guinevere looked down again. "Can you imagine that? Spending years watching people die before their death, knowing that they are waiting somewhere, where someone could stop them from suffering. Lena thinks she's letting them die. Any time she _can_ stop it she goes half mad. You should see her in battle. Anytime anyone needs help she's there. Like today." Guinevere shook her head solemnly. "She'd gladly throw herself into a frozen lake to save a man she barely knows, just to make up for all the deaths she thinks she could have stopped."

"It's reckless." Guinevere looked up in surprise at Tristan's words. She could tell he still didn't trust her.

"Yes." She nodded. "But you'd be surprised how many Seers have been like that. They all think the same way."

"Doesn't she realize how important it must be for her to stay alive….you know, for the Woads?" Galahad seemed uncomfortable asking the question.

"The sight doesn't die with a seer…it passes." Guinevere twiddled her fingers nervously. "Besides, she hasn't much time left."

"What?" This time is was Lancelot, who for the most part had been pretending not to listen to the conversation.

"Most Seers die young." She stated bluntly. "Few live past 25, unless they receive the sight later in their life—that was what happened to my grandmother." She sighed unhappily. "Lena has been a Seer for nearly 15 years, and she is already very weak. Our doctors give her no more than a year to live." Her voice wavered. "After this ordeal…I would say that amount of time has been substantially lowered. I suppose, the way she sees it, saving Dagonet was more important than saving herself for another few months."

The men all remained silent and Arthur discreetly took Guinevere's hand in his. She gave a feeble smile in thanks for the gesture.

Lancelot felt dizzy as he stared into the fire, replaying Guinevere's words in his mind.

"_Our doctors give her no more than a year to live."_

"_substantially lowered_"

"_Several **months.**"_

"_Seers **die young**." _

Okay, well that was actually short for once (a miracle, huh?) and I hope you all enjoyed. I'll try to have the next one up soon.

MAD PROPS (hah…I love saying that…) to "FALLEN KNIGHTS", a KA fan site where anyone can find the script.


	11. A Stroll Down Memory Lane

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

**Sorceress of Rohan**: Thank you very much. I've sort of just started to figure out how much I really do love writing, and I won't give it up just because of one mean review. I'm glad you plan to start writing again…it's a really great thing, and hey, the only way to get better is to keep going, right?

**Sorceress Misha**: Haha…I've had two Sorceresses review today. Thanks and I'm happy you enjoyed.

**Marianna: **Haha, that's good, I'm glad you're happy about it continuing. I just had exams as well…its so hard to resist the call of fan fiction when you've got study time…

**Evenstar-mor2004: **It's a definite possibility…that's all I'm going to say as of now.

**Raz 42492** Well, at least I know people actually like Lena. Lol, thanks.

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY: **This is pretty soon, no?

**Tracy137: **Well, here's more, and I'm glad you liked the way I did it. I felt like I relied on the movie verse a little too much…but I was feeling lazy. MAD PROPS to you for saying mad props…okay so I've pretty much killed that now.

**Choices**

**Chapter 11:** A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Most of the Knights had wandered off to bed. The Woads, who had been instructed by Guinevere to remain with the caravan until their arrival at the wall, had slept around their own fire, apart from the rest of the people. As Etta and Fulcinia did not want anyone in the sick wagon, Lucan was sleeping with Alecto in the Roman's wagon. Arthur had, most generously, made room for Guinevere on his bedroll, and the pair slept side by side.

Lancelot, however, could not find sleep. He remained by the fire, contemplating the earlier conversation and the things he had learned.

"_Seers die young."_ — It kept replaying itself in his head, over and over.

The Knight shifted uncomfortably, and looked to the wagon that housed both Lena and Dagonet. Suddenly, he was overcome by a dire need to speak with Lena, if only to reassure himself that she was all right, and would not be dying any time soon. He looked around quickly, making sure everyone else was asleep, then made his was quietly to the cart.

He poked his head into the wagon, and began to climb in. "Who is that?" Someone hissed. Lancelot froze. "Guinevere?" It was Etta, whispering in the dark.

"Guinevere?" Lancelot muttered back disbelievingly. "It's Lancelot." He whispered in reply, slightly annoyed that Etta had taken him for a girl.

"Well I can't see you over there!" Etta defended herself. "And what are you doing here? No one's allowed in, go on, get out!"

He ignored her command. "Where's the Roman woman?" Lancelot asked instead.

"She went to go check on Lucan and Alecto." Etta answered, shuffling over to him. "Why are you still here?"

"I wanted to see Lena." He answered honestly. Etta gave him a pitying look. "How is she?" Etta sighed and crawled over to Lena, Lancelot following behind her.

"Not well." Etta wasn't one to sugarcoat. "She broke into a high fever not long ago, and has been in and out of consciousness ever since." Etta reached down and felt Lena's forehead. "We can't seem to get her to cool down." The woman spoke more to herself than to Lancelot.

Lancelot felt a sudden pang of guilt over not having asked about Dagonet. "And what about him?" He nodded in the direction of the sleeping knight.

Etta smiled. "Surprisingly, he's doing quite well." She let out a short breath. "You'd think it be the other way around." She mused looking down at Lena. "But perhaps she was weaker than we thought, you know, from the prison." Lancelot nodded. "If that's the case…the girl has quite a talent for acting all right…trudging through the snow…" Etta shook her head.

Suddenly, Etta's stomach let out a loud grumble. She groaned a little and held it. "Hungry?" Lancelot asked with a smirk.

"No." Her stomach growled again. "Maybe."

"There's still food out there." Lancelot informed her.

"But I can't—"

Lancelot cut her off. "I'd be most happy to wait here, Lady."

Etta looked at him doubtfully. "Really?"

"Really."

"Fine." She started to make her way out of the wagon, all too happy with the thought of food. "But if anything happens get Fulcinia or I immediately." Etta added before disappearing

Lancelot let out a long breath as he sat down beside Lena. This little excursion was supposed to have made him feel better about Lena's health…not worse. The knight shook his head. He didn't like worrying. He didn't like the fact that he was worried. He especially didn't like the idea that Lena _made_ him worry so easily.

"Then don't worry." Lancelot looked around, surprised, before realizing it was Lena who had spoken to him. She was propped up on her elbows, staring at him. He hadn't even notice her wake.

"Why would you think—" Lancelot began to ask.

"Do not pretend you aren't…you look awful." She stated, lying back down.

"You're one to speak." He joked, putting a hand on her forehead. She was burning. Lena waited for him to move his hand away but he never did. Instead he began to push back some of her dark hair in an idle manor, not realizing the kind of small gesture he was making. They sat like that for several minutes, until the Knight noticed a sudden change in Lena's breathing.

"Lancelot—I—I," She grabbed her throat suddenly, struggling to breath. She threw back her shoulders as her chest heaved erratically, her lungs fighting for oxygen. Lancelot was over her in a second, a hand on each of her shoulders, trying to keep her calm. Looking to her face, he noticed for the first time that her eyes were changing. This wasn't the pure white he had seen in the morning though; this time they were clouding, fading almost to white, and then returning to normal, over and over.

"Lena what—" He never finished the sentence though, because as Lena froze, her eyes finally crossing all the way into solid white, so did he.

They were standing in a small field, close to a congregation of village huts. As Lancelot looked around frantically, he realized he was standing beside Lena, who was looking as healthy (and able to breath) as ever.

"Lena, what the hell is going on?" He demanded. "Lena?" She didn't respond. "Lena?" He tried grabbing her arm, but she couldn't feel it. He realized, with some confusion, that Lena had no idea of his presence. Lancelot heard shouting and, following Lena's gaze, noticed what it was they were watching.

A small girl, probably younger then 8, was being screamed at by her father, it appeared. "You will do exactly what I say, when I say, do you understand, girl?" The man shouted angrily. "No more of this running off because _you _don't_ want _to!" The girl didn't answer. The man reached down suddenly and forcefully grabbed the girl by either arm, lifting her painfully off the ground. This elicited a terrified scream from the girl. Her father shook her hard as he continued to yell. "Do you understand me!" She didn't answer again and the man shook more forcefully. "ANSWER ME!"

"Please don't make me!" The sobbing girl begged. "Please, Father, don't make me!" She cried harder. The man let go of one of her arms and used his now free hand to slap the girl.

"Sir!" Lancelot called out, trying to intervene. "Sir, please—" He realized, however, that the girl and father didn't see him either. No one saw or heard him or Lena here. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Lancelot looked to Lena, hoping that something would change. She was staring determinately at the man and little girl, her mouth in a tight line, her jaw clenched shut, her fists balled at her sides, nails digging into the palms of her hands. Lancelot had never once seen her look this angry. It was frightening. Suddenly, Lena began to march away, in the direction of the village. Lancelot looked back to the screaming father and crying daughter before following.

"Where are we?" He shouted after Lena. "Where are you going?" He knew she couldn't hear him, let alone answer, but it felt like he needed to ask either way. Lancelot continued to follow as Lena made her way through the small community. They passed several people, none of whom seemed to register their existence in the town, as Lena trudged on.

Soon they came upon a small hut, which Lena entered without hesitation. Inside were 10 or 11 men, who all seemed to be impatiently waiting for someone. Lena found a spot on the wall, and Lancelot uncertainly stood beside her, as she seemed to wait as well.

"Where the bloody hell is the girl?" A particularly unattractive man asked. "Like hell I'm going to pay him for making me wait here!" Some of the others grumbled in assent.

"Friends," The same man they had watched berate his daughter earlier appeared at the door. "Terribly sorry for the inconvenience." He spoke glibly. Lancelot furrowed his brow. How had Lena known he would show up here? "My daughter is ready, and believe me, the small price you pay for her _talents_ is sure to be well worth it." He pulled the girl out from where she was hiding behind him, and pushed her into the small room. "Ipetus, I believe you were here first." Lancelot watched uncertainly as the father forced his daughter into a chair and gestured for Ipetus to come forward. What the hell were these people doing?

At the urging of her father, the girl reached out and touched Ipetus' hand. She concentrated for a moment before both of them froze. The girl's large eyes turned a shockingly clean shade of white, and Lancelot felt his stomach knot.

The girl was Lena.

She had known the man would come to the hut, because it was her hut. He looked around at the home in confusion. These weren't Woads. He looked to Lena, and saw still, the same immense anger he had before. That man, standing there watching greedily as his daughter, _as Lena_, was forced to read the future, was her father. Lancelot looked at the little girl. She was frozen for a moment more before snapping into life.

"Don't sell your surplus this fall." She said quietly. She had considerably paled.

"What do you mean don't sell my crops!" Ipetus demanded. "How the hell am I supposed to turn a profit?"

Little Lena shook her head. "Your family will starve in winter. Save your food." The man stared at her blankly before walking to her father and handing over three coins.

"Come again." He smiled falsely as Ipetus left. Lancelot watched as little Lena went through the same ordeal for each person present, in the end earning her father a hefty sum of gold. The man shook the small purse filled with the recent makings by his ear, smiling as if the jingling sound were music. He beamed before patting his daughters head. "At least some good can come of having a freak for a daughter." He smiled yet again, unaware of how the words cut her. "Rest, my little money maker," He added. "We'll need your talents again tomorrow." He let out a happy laugh before exiting the hut.

The fully grown, present day Lena left her spot on the wall once her father had disappeared. She knelt in front of the younger version of herself, who was still sitting in her chair. The little girl looked sickly and tired. Lancelot noted that, even as she had screamed and cried, the girl had looked much better in the field than she did now. He understood what Guinevere had been talking about; he had just seen, ten times, what a drain it was for Lena to use the sight. He couldn't imagine 15 years of that.

"Why doesn't he love me?" The girl asked shakily to herself, quiet tears streaming from her eyes. It was the last thing either Lancelot or Lena heard from her before being ripped back into reality.

Lancelot shook his head and backed away from the Woad. Lena was coughing violently, having just regained the ability to breathe properly. Though the sight had felt lengthy, in reality it took no longer than ten seconds, in which time Lena's body had continued to find difficulty in taking in air.

"How—" Lancelot asked disbelievingly.

"It must be the fever." Lena choked out. "Strange things happen when I am not well." Her coughing eventually subsided and her breathing returned to its normal pace. "You saw as well then?" She asked.

"Yes." His eyes were darting back and forth, searching her face in the dim moonlight. "What was that?"

"A memory. My memory." Lena answered quietly; uncomfortable knowing Lancelot had seen that part of her past.

"But you're a Woad." He stated suddenly. "That wasn't a Woad settlement."

"I didn't know I was a Woad until I was in my seventh summer. My parents left their home for a Roman ruled village." Lena explained then coughed nervously. She didn't like talking about her parents. "My father was _opposed_ to Merlin." Lena bit her bottom lip. "I—I'm sorry I dragged you into that…I know you dislike the entire—"

"No, no," He interrupted, still backing away. "Don't apologize." He was almost out of the wagon. In what little light there was, Lancelot could make out Lena's desperate eyes. She did not want him to fear her.

"Lancelot, please!" But he was already gone, walking to his bedroll at breakneck speed.

You see, it was not that Lancelot feared Lena—or even Lena's sight for that matter. It was not fear at all that had driven him from the wagon that night. Lancelot was simply too ashamed to face Lena. Because, as he'd seen her eyes pleading with him to stay, all he could think of was the little girl asking why she was so unloved. And as she called his name, all he could hear was his own voice, that night in the forest, when he himself had called her a freak—just as her father had done. And he remembered his own thoughts upon the discovery of Lena's sight; when Tristan had believed her and Arthur had seemed convinced, how he had, for an instant, let that voice in his head say what it truly wanted to say. It had told him that she was _strange_, that she did not _belong_ around the fire joking with Galahad and Bors, and that he had condescended to _feel_ for someone as bizarre as Lena.

And Lancelot hated that. He hated himself for ever feeling that way. Because it was unfair and wrong and undeserved in everyway. As a heavy sense of guilt wound its way through his chest, Lancelot gave a frustrated sigh. He wanted to show her that he didn't feel that way any longer. He wanted to show Lena that he wasn't like the people who had treated her so poorly.

He wanted to show himself as well.

Okay guys, I hoped you all liked it. I feel like Lancelot was VERY out of character…I don't know, if anyone has anything to say on that I'd really love it, because I'm sort of uneasy with the way I've written his part this chapter. The next chapter might not be up for a while (I've got to go to my dads this week and I can't really write there) but I'll try to have it up ASAP. Thanks for reading!

Blue


	12. Riding and Interference

Review responses for the last chapter will be posted with chapter 13; I couldn't access them now, so sorry guys…not that you'll miss my ramblings either way, though. Hah.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**NOTE**: I realized that I didn't put a disclaimer in chapters 10 or 11. So yeah…right now I'm….uh, disclaiming them?

**Choices**

**Chapter 12: Riding and Interference **

Lena was doing better. Not particularly well, mind you, but then again, Lena was _never_ particularly well. She was doing well enough for the time being, however, and had even managed to convince Etta to let her ride outside.

"Only for a while!" The young woman shouted as Lena positioned herself in front of Balor on his horse. Lena gave a nod to Etta before smiling at her Woad friend in thanks. She had originally intended on making Lancelot give her a ride, but unable to find him, she had gladly settled for Balor. Perhaps it was better if she simply let the knight be. It was foolish of her to pester Lancelot anyway.

"You still have a fever." Balor stated, slight concern evident in his voice.

"Barely." Lena brushed off his comment. "It will pass soon enough."

"You know," He said more quietly, leaning closer to her, his lips barely brushing against her ear. "we need you strong now, Lena. We _all_ do."

Lena looked at him uncertainly. He was awfully close to her. "Come off it, Balor, I'll be fine." He nodded, understanding she didn't wish to discuss her health.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Lancelot was riding grumpily behind the sick wagon. Should he go in? Speak to her? Or stay out here? In all honestly he knew that he _should_ go in, but he didn't think he _could _muster the dignity to actually do it. He sighed in frustration before kicking his horse in the side and letting out a "yah!", making it speed around the wagon.

His decision on whether or not to enter the cart was taken out of his hands at the sight that met him. Lena was already out here! Wait…why was Lena out here? She was ill, he had seen, or rather felt, first hand how high a fever she had the night before. Why was she out and about in the snow riding with Balor? More importantly, why was she riding with _Balor_? Lancelot watched resentfully as the Woad moved in closer to whisper something to Lena, but had to suppress a laugh at the look she gave Balor.

_Stupid, un-charming Woad man…even Galahad could do better then that. _

Lancelot continued to ride behind and watch the couple. Balor had remained uncomfortably close to Lena, and even had an arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Much to Lancelot's chagrin, it didn't look like Lena minded. The Woad leaned in close again, and this time Lena laughed mirthfully at whatever he had said. It was the same laugh from around the fire.

Lancelot threw a facetious smile at the back of Balor's head. _Well aha ha ha, wasn't he just hysterical?_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"We'll be to the wall soon, won't we?" Lena asked, even though she already knew the answer. She was trying hard to make conversation with Balor.

"Probably in several hours." He nodded. "It won't be much longer."

"You should take the Woads from your settlement and meet up with Merlin when we arrive." She tried to make it sound like less of a command, though in actuality that's all it was.

Balor, in his usual somewhat cocky manner Lena noted, dismissed the statement. "They can meet your uncle without me. While I can," She felt his grip on her waist tighten slightly. "I would rather stay with you at the wall, I mean if it is all right by you."

"Uh…" Lena found herself at a loss for words. "…Uh…" Balor seemed to take this as her agreement to his proposal, and smiled broadly.

"Very good." Mentally, Lena scoffed. The man had always been a bit forward and smug, but it seemed he had gotten worse since they were childhood friends. Or perhaps, Lena mused, she just brought out the jackass in him. Whatever the reason was, Lena decided she didn't particularly wish to be around his sudden and not-so-subtle advances at the moment.

"Uh, yes…Well, forgive me but I'm afraid I've grown quite tired." Lena feigned fatigue in a mildly convincing manner. She knew Balor would fall for a damsel in distress routine no matter how unbelievable it was. "If you'll kindly excuse me, I believe I should return to the wagon now…don't want Etta to worry…"

"Right!" Balor slowed his horse. "You must get well as soon as possible." He gave Lena a reassuring smile, as not to worry. "We will talk again later, _dear_." He helped her dismount as he spoke and Lena couldn't help but crinkle her brow questioningly. _Dear_? "I wouldn't want your health deteriorating on _my_ account." It took most of her control not to say anything at that, but as he led her to the wagon by the forearm, Lena managed to keep quiet.

**xxxxxxxxxxx **

Lancelot continued to watch Lena and Balor with a sort of bemused jealously. _Bemused, _because Balor was making an idiot of himself an impressive number of times. _Jealous_, because no matter how much of an idiot the Woad managed to make himself, Lena was still sitting on _his_ horse with _his_ arm around her. The knight shook off the idea. He wasn't jealous. That strange tightening of his chest wasn't jealousy…

He was too far away to hear what they were saying, and since he was riding behind them, he wasn't even able to read their expressions. Lancelot didn't really know why he was watching the pair with such determination. Perhaps it was just the idea that if he didn't like something that happened or _was about to happen_ he could quite easily interfere.

Interfere? _What was he thinking_? What right did he have to interfere with Lena's personal affairs? No matter how obtuse the people they involved were…

As the thought that Balor was not only _obtuse_ but also every other synonym of the word flitted across Lancelot's mind, he realized that Lena had gotten down from his horse and was walking to the wagon. _With Balor_. He let his horse slow slightly and fall to the side of the wagon, where he could not so easily be seen. Lancelot noted with pride, however, that from his newly chosen location he had a fairly advantageous viewing position of the couple. _Clever_. He was so very clever like that.

Lena stood waiting to enter the wagon, and Balor said his temporary farewells. Suddenly, as Lancelot realized that Balor was stooping down in order to kiss Lena (probably nothing more than a quick peck on the cheek…but a kiss nonetheless), all the cleverness in the world didn't matter. Before he realized what he was doing, Lancelot had sped his horse around the corner of the wagon and come into full view. "Lena!" He called, startling both Woads. Balor jumped back, his attempts at kissing Lena reduced to pathetic failure. From above oh his horse, Lancelot smirked in triumph and looked down at the pair.

"Uh…yes?" Lena prodded after a moment of silence.

"Hmm, what?" Lancelot asked in return, slightly confused and still atop his horse.

"You needed me?" Lena reminded with a raised brow. She noted uncomfortably that Balor still stood beside her.

"Wha—Oh! Yes, that…" He stumbled for a second, trying to make some kind of excuse. "I—uh, I need to speak with you." He returned the look Balor was giving him. "_In private._"

"Now?" Lena inquired incredulously. She really was starting to get tired. The thought of sleeping under a fur in the wagon was becoming increasingly inviting. "Right now?"

"Yes, it's…very important." Lancelot stated firmly.

"Lena needs her rest." Balor interjected suddenly.

"She seemed to have no trouble riding with you." Lancelot returned. He didn't miss the look of surprise on Lena's face. Damn! Now she would know he'd been watching.

"That was different. She needs to—"

"Balor, please. If Lancelot needs to speak to me, we will speak." Lena reached up and took the hand offered by the knight as he helped her swing up into the saddle. Balor then marched off without so much as a goodbye, much like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

Lancelot cleared his throat, trying to ignore the warmth radiating off of Lena behind him.

"So," He began, not really having anything to talk about. "You two seem close."

Lena arched a brow, something she felt she'd done too many times today. "We've known each other for a very long time. Balor was a friend of Guinevere's and mine while we were children." She explained. "Our families were very…chummy, I suppose you could say. Balor comes from a very high ranking blood line among the Woads, we all ran in similar social circles."

Hearing the way she spoke about it, Lancelot realized momentarily how political Lena's life was. _Friends, chummy, social circles_. "That's it?" He asked a bit disbelievingly. "That is your history with Balor?" Lena didn't miss the way Lancelot spat the name.

"Well, Sir Knight," she started, feeling slightly defensive for Balor. "I do not know why you seem to be so interested in my _history_, as you put it, with him…or why it's of any importance, but if you really do insist on knowing, we were…gods, it sounds ridiculous just to think it…" Lena had to admit she was a little embarrassed. "We were…well I guess you would say we were childhood sweethearts."

"Oh." Lancelot felt his heart sink a little. Idiot boy was more important than he'd thought.

Lena felt guilty. Something about what she'd said seemed like it had been an insult to the knight. Without really knowing why, she tried to explain more. "It was very innocent. Really more our families' doing than our own. You know, it was very much about power politics—not entirely, but…well." Lena shook her head. This was too awkward. "So, what was it you had to discuss with me?" She inquired. Change the subject, just change the subject.

"I just wanted to know if…" He paused for a moment, thinking quickly for something to say that didn't sound completely ridiculous. "If you were feeling any better?" He finished with a smirk, satisfied with his excuse.

"You couldn't ask me that in front of Balor?"

The smirk vanished. Lancelot groaned mentally. "I suppose I could have." He answered honestly.

"Right." Did Lena sound disappointed, or was he imagining that? "Well, I'm feeling much better, thank you." Her voice took on a politeness that didn't seem to fit. "If that was all, I should be returning to the wagon." Lancelot nodded.

He should apologize, he knew. He should take the opportunity and discuss last night. But Lancelot wasn't one to discuss. It wasn't all though. The simple "are you feeling any better?" was not all. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and say that he didn't fear her, tell her that he was better than he'd shown himself to be. He wanted to tell her that he didn't mean to run from her like he did last night. Lancelot wanted her to know that it wasn't her sight that drove him away. It was his own shame and guilt and cowardice. Besides making him realize how unkind and callous his initial reaction to it had been, the sight had nothing to do with it. A tight sense of guilt once again coiled through his gut at the memory of how cold he had been to her. How angry and…_better_ than her he had felt. Those feeling seemed impossible now, but the thought of having felt them weighed him heavier with guilt. Lancelot wanted to shake her and say that he knew she was different, but it didn't make her worse. She was different and _better_. Last night had nothing to do with her being worse. Last night was Lancelot the coward. And not the coward who feared her differences. Just the coward who feared her compassion in the face of his cruelty. The coward who ran from love.

Wait…love?

Love?

Lancelot watched regretfully as Lena entered the wagon. He should have said something. He should have been braver.

The knight rode forward unsteadily, feeling slightly shaken.

_Love_

Okay, so I'm sorry that took longer then expected. I was suddenly struck with a writers block relapse. Please Please Please tell me what you think! Reviews are very much appreciated. The end of this story will probably be in the next several chapters. I'm not sure exactly when though. I have some sequel ideas, but I don't know if anyone would actually want to read about this any further. So, tell me what you think! I'll love you forever!

Thanks guys.

Blue


	13. Calm Before the Storm

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**A/N: **Review responses for the last two chapters are at the end of this one.

**Choices**

**Chapter 13: Calm Before the Storm**

The remainder of the trip to the wall had been uneventful. Lancelot had stayed on his horse, riding in silence among the knights. Lena had not found the sleep she desired within the wagon, and instead occupied herself with speaking to Etta as they journeyed.

"You must have been dreadfully afraid though, with a dagger at your throat." Etta had been asking about Lena's ordeal with Marius days earlier. "Lena? Weren't you?"

Lena breathed a small laugh. "I've been in worse situations."

Etta scoffed disbelievingly. "What's worse than that? Being defenseless and at a man's mercy—I can't think of _anything_ much worse." Lena didn't respond, but only watched as Etta shook her head somberly. "I suppose it's different for your kind, though." Lena raised a brow, and Etta continued. "I mean, being taught to fight from the time you were knee high to a pig's eye. All you wild women must be used to having knives thrown at you."

Lena let out a genuine laugh. "_Wild women_?"

Etta laughed as well. "It's what the priests and monks called you. Vagabonds, criminals, and animals who let their women run wild and wreak havoc." Lena's smile fell a bit, but Etta didn't take notice. "What mindless sheep we were! You lot were certainly frightening from far away, but really, up close you Woads are just like us—If everyone took the time to get a better view they'd see it as well." Lena cocked her head to the side, weighing Etta's words. "You're certainly wild in comparison to the Romans, but I dare say women like me could do to _be_ a bit wilder. Romans just don't like the idea that a woman could be as capable as a man with a sword." She chuckled a little. "They're afraid of what the wives they beat would do if they got a dagger in their hands. Good for you though. I've always wanted to learn how to handle a blade." She finished quietly, almost sheepishly.

There was a pause in which the two women watched each other, an unspoken, newfound respect passing between them. Once it ended, Lena broke into a large, honest smile.

"If you'd let me," The Woad said seriously. "I'd love to teach you how."

**xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Upon their arrival at Hadrian's Wall the group was received by Bishop Germanius, who immediately plastered on a glib smile once he had spotted Alecto. "Ah! Good! Christ be praised! Against all the odds Satan could possi–" The Roman boy backed away towards his mother. "Alecto! Let me see you! You have triumphed! Young Alecto! Let me see you! You are here!" He stared at the young man in confusion, none of his warmth reciprocated.

The Bishop's eyes swung to the knights, who stood menacingly beside the wagon. He laughed nervously before speaking to them. "Great Knights. You are free now! Give me the papers." He ordered his servant. "Come, come! Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire!" No one moved. Instead the Bishop received only glares. "Take it, Arthur." He spoke, his frustration evident. Still glares. Germanius laughed nervously again.

Arthur moved in front of the man he had once respected. Face to face, Arthur wondered why it was he'd ever respected the Bishop at all. Standing there, it was becoming increasingly evident that Germanius was _nothing_. "Bishop Germanius. _Friend_ of my father."

He nearly spat before walking away.

The Bishop's look was nothing less than shock, but he recovered quickly, training his eyes on the knights who still stood, stony and unforgiving, before him. "You are free. You can go!"

Lancelot finally grabbed the papers from the box and handed one to each of the Knights. To Bors he gave two, as Dagonet had been moved to the infirmary and was not currently present. "For Dag. Take it to him."

Bors looked disgustedly at the papers Lancelot had dropped into his hands. "He could be dead by morning! _This_ doesn't make him free! It's nothing!" He yelled, his eyes focused on the bewildered Bishop. "We're already free!" He pounded a fist to his chest before walking away, on his way to see Dagonet, no doubt.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As soon as the caravan had arrived, Lena had been dragged into the infirmary, despite her most valiant protests. Etta had forced her into a cot beside Dagonet's, and then proceeded to shove a bitter liquid down her throat which she claimed would do wonders for Lena's slight fever. What Etta hadn't mentioned was that a side effect of the drug was extreme drowsiness. Lena had collapsed into a peaceful (and induced) slumber before she knew what hit her.

Hours later, she opened her eyes to find her vision clouded, her head heavy, and her mind foggy and slow. Lena shook her head and blinked several times, trying to clear away the mist that had somehow settled over her body and brain.

She looked around in confusion before spotting the empty glass Etta had made her drink from earlier. Lena mumbled several incoherent curses and shook her head violently in another attempt to rid herself of the after effects of Etta's medicine.

It was growing dark outside, Lena could tell from the one window that had been left slightly ajar to allow for fresh air. She smiled in the dimness as she made out the form of Bors, sleeping fitfully in a chair near Dagonet's cot. She lay back down and closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the peacefulness of the room. It would not be peaceful here for a long time again, she realized sadly.

Lena was jolted from her thoughts when the sound of distant voices began approaching. Two people were whispering somewhere around the corner. She sat up in bed and strained to hear.

"I don't think so, Galahad. I can't leave my charge." A familiar and distinctly female voice could be heard.

Etta! And Galahad! Lena smiled satisfactorily at her discovery. She continued to eavesdrop, but could not make out the words Galahad was speaking.

"I can't!" Etta responded to whatever the knight had said.

"Only for a few moments. You need a break, Etta."

_Yes! Take her away, and I can get out of here for a while! _Lena thought excitedly.

"Ham bones is there if anything should happen."

_What? **Ham Bones**? _In the excitement of planning her escape, Lena had forgotten to listen closely enough. The Woad shook her head and nearly laughed at her own stupidity.

Etta began speaking again. "I suppose you are right. And she won't be waking for at least another hour. Bors _is_ capable enough to call for help…" There was a pause. "All right. But only for a few minutes."

Galahad let out a little victory whoop, and then the voices grew quieter once more, as the pair walked away and turned another corner.

Lena swung her legs off the cot, her toes meekly making contact with the cold floor. She waited a minute before rising and slipping on her leather sandals. Pausing at the door Lena poked her head out to make sure the coast was clear. She cast one look back into the room before casually walking into the hallway. As she sauntered along, Lena realized that only days ago she had snuck away from under Dagonet's watchful eye in much the same manner.

As she continued her stroll another familiar voice became audible in the distance. Lena approached the room from which Arthur's voice flowed. "Merciful God, _please_, give me Your guidance in this, my hour of need. Give me the strength to do what You see fit." Lena stopped in the entrance of Arthur's room. He had left the door ajar and from her position, Lena watched Arthur, bathed in the strange glow a dying fire in the hearth of his chambers provided. He stood on his knees, eyes closed, hands clasped, his face tilted upwards and appearing almost golden from the light cast by the shrinking flames —a man of faith begging his Lord for aid. The Woad's heart wrenched. He was unknowingly beautiful and crushing all at the same time.

Lena didn't realize, but she must have sighed softly at the sight, for Arthur's eyes snapped open and flashed towards her suddenly. A moment of silence passed before either spoke. "Forgive me." Lena started as she made her was further into the room. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"Its fine, Lady." Arthur spoke as he stood up. He gave her a once over before continuing. "I thought you had been placed in the infirmary under Lady Fulcinia's orders."

"They were Etta's orders, and you needn't worry." Lena perched herself of the edge of seat as she explained. "I'm much better now."

Arthur gave her a suspicious look before sighing and sitting himself down on the edge of his bed. They sat in somewhat awkward silence for a while. Lena's strange eyes danced over the room until finally landing on the broken pieces of what looked like a large clay coin. She picked the two largest fragments up carefully and fit them together before holding them out to Arthur. A pained look flashed across his countenance briefly.

"Pelagius." He explained somberly. "He taught of freedom and equality all throughout Rome. He was like a father to me." Arthur made no attempt to hide the sadness in his eyes.

"I've heard of him." Lena said softly. "He taught here, in Britain, did he not?"

"Yes." The knight smiled a bit, as if remembering something fondly, though the sorrow was still evident in his gaze. "But he returned to Rome when I was still a boy." The sadness in his face was replaced with anger quite suddenly. "Alecto informed me not a day ago that Pelagius was excommunicated and killed. Killed by Bishop Germanius, the man who sent my knights on the mission we have just returned from. The man who slept in this very room a night ago." Arthur ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. He looked at Lena pleadingly, desperately. "The Rome I fought for is _gone_. I don't know what I believe in anymore"

Lena smiled knowingly. "Yes you do, Arthur." The Roman gave her a confused look. "Maybe Rome isn't what it once was to you. Maybe your heart does not belong there any longer—maybe it never did. But that only changes _where_ you are. The things you had faith in are all around you. Freedom and equality—goodness, justice, _love_—those things still exist in the world, Arthur." Again she gave a knowing smile. "You just have to know where to find them, and when to fight for them."

This time Arthur returned the smile. "I spoke to your cousin earlier. She said that these are my people." He shook his head uncertainly. "Do you think that as well?"

The Woad leaned forward, her voice and eyes both serious. "I _know_ it." Lena saw the doubt that still lingered in his gaze. "But that means nothing until you do."

"I —" Arthur was cut off by a knock at his door and a hurried voice.

"Arthur. Come to the wall now." Lena and Arthur exchanged one concerned glance before dashing out of the room.

They were both impatient by the time they reached the wall, and quickly ran up the steps to find a worried Lancelot. Guinevere stood behind him, anticipation evident on her face. Arthur and Lena looked over the wall and finally saw what it was everyone had been watching.

Saxons.

Or more accurately, their camp fires.

At least a hundred tiny fires dotted the field before them. That could mean nearly 700 Saxons. Lena had expected as much, but actually seeing it before her made it all the more frightening. The other knights had arrived by now and stared in disbelief at the army sitting at their feet. Arthur stared out at the flame-speckled field before shifting his gaze to his knights. He looked down upon the crowd of villagers, then back to his knights. His eyes connected with Lena's haunting own for a second, but he looked away. Then his gaze fell on Guinevere. Her eyes, warm and dark and confident, spoke a million words. And then he knew.

"Knights. My journey with you must end here. May God go with you." Arthur nodded once before climbing down the stairs. Lancelot looked scornfully at the two Woads before running after his friend.

"Arthur!" Lancelot called out as he chased after his commander. "Arthur, this is not Rome's fight. It is not _your_ fight." His eyes were pleading now. "All these long years we've been together, the trials we've faced, the blood we've shed...What was it all for, if not for the reward of freedom? And now when we are so close! When it is finally in our grasp - look at me!" Lancelot grabbed Arthur by the arm, forcing him to stop. "Does it all count for nothing?"

"You ask me that?" Arthur furrowed his brow. "You who know me best of all?" Arthur gave him one more look, and then began to walk away again. Lancelot would not be so easily deterred.

"Then do not do this! Only certain death awaits you here." He had to make him understand. "_Arthur_! I beg you! For our friendship's sake, I beg you—"

Arthur grabbed Lancelot by the shoulders. "You be my friend now and do not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us." He shook his head, almost apologetically. "I cannot follow you, Lancelot. I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken have led me to this moment." Arthur paused for a second, replaying Lena's earlier words in his head. "This is my freedom. This is my _choice_. " Lancelot watched despondently as his closest friend walked away.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **

Lena had stayed up on the wall. The panicked crowd that had been at the scene earlier had slowly filtered out, and now only several remained, watching the Saxon army. The young Woad's eyes weren't fixed on the fires, or the Saxon beasts who mulled around them. Instead she looked up, her gaze examining the countless stars and luminous moon.

A pair of arms engulfed Lena from behind, and for a moment she thought it was Lancelot. But then a voice followed the arms, and Lena knew it was Balor who stood with her.

"Do you remember the summer when I was 15?" He asked, stepping away from her. Lena nodded and he continued. "We found that pond and swam everyday. You, me, and Guinevere." He laughed at the memory. An honest, quiet laugh. "And Anlaf followed us there every single time…to read Guinevere the poetry he wrote!" He laughed again, not mockingly, but happily as he began to recite one of Anlaf's more memorable pieces. "Guinevere, oh Guinevere, you are the sun in my sky, shining brightly in the noon—"

"You are the mutton in my pie, and for you the flowers bloom." Lena smiled as she finished for him. Balor laughed heartily, and again Lena saw the youth and mirthfulness she had always adored in him. It was times like these, when she remembered why they'd been so close. For all his shortcomings, Balor was still a good man. "We had so much fun then." Lena whispered, looking back toward the sky.

Balor moved to stand behind her once more, his eyes lost in the stars as well. "We were quite the pair, Lena. You and I." His voice was lacking the cockiness Lena had grown to dislike. "We still could be." Balor placed a warm hand on her shoulder. His touch was not possessive or presumptuous as it had been earlier. It was a gesture of kindness. Of comfort and friendship. Of hopeful and unassuming affection.

Lena was not fortunate enough to experience this, however. As soon as Balor's hand had landed on her bare shoulder, Lena's eyes had gone white and her body had frozen.

She stood helpless and in a fog, watching the scene before her. Balor, blue war paint and all, was fiercely cutting Saxon after Saxon to ribbons. Lena followed his movements over the battlefield. Dead bodies and other warriors melted out of her way. Balor. He was the only thing she could see clearly. Lena watched as another average, incompetent looking Saxon began to fight her friend. But this one was faster and more skilled than the others. He caught Balor off guard.

Before Lena or Balor realized what had happened, there was a sword protruding from Balor's abdomen. The Saxon withdrew the blade and Balor fell to his knees, eyes wide and confused. And then, with one more swing of the blade, Balor's head lay several feet from the rest of his body, horror still marring his young face. Lena couldn't move. She watched helplessly as the murderer walked away, his back to her. Short and bald—those were the only characteristics she had time to identify before he disappeared. He could be any one of the Saxons.

How could she stop this without knowing _who_ to stop?

And then her own voice filled her head, "_Three for one, three for one…_" It chanted over and over. Lena stood there, Balor's head at her feet, her voice fogging the air, whispering the same words again and again.

"Are you all right?" Lena blinked twice and the Saxon fires were back in front of her.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"You gasped so suddenly, I thought something might be wrong." It was Balor, still behind her, right where he had been.

"I'm fine." She managed to croak.

"All right." He removed the hand from her shoulder. "We both need rest, Lena. Tomorrow holds our destinies; it would not do to be sleepy." He laughed. She tried not to cry out.

"I just want to watch the sky a bit longer." She whispered instead.

"All right." Balor nodded. "I'll leave you then." He began to walk away but turned suddenly to face her again. He looked at her boldly before speaking. "I—I hope you know how much I care for you, Lena." The Seer smiled softly.

She knew. And she knew he was waiting for some kind of response in return. Some kind of "I love you" that she could not give. How could she when her heart was already in someone else's hands? Lena's thoughts stopped dead for a second, but remembering Balor in front of her, she brushed it off quickly.

If tomorrow was his death day, how could reject him? Instead of speaking, Lena did the one thing she honestly wanted to do. She threw herself at Balor, wrapping her arms around his neck, and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Be careful tomorrow." She mumbled into his chest, though she knew it could not change anything. Telling him of the vision couldn't change it either. It would just make his last hours miserable.

Lena took a step back and looked at the boy she had known since her second day as a Woad. He wasn't much of a boy anymore, she corrected. His eyes though, they would always be young. And maybe his heart too. "Goodbye, Balor." She was trying desperately to keep from crying. This could be the last time they ever saw each other.

"Say goodnight, Lena, not goodbye."

"Goodnight, Balor."

Yes. His heart would stay young too.

As Lena made her way back to the infirmary, she thought of her own heart, and the realization she had accidentally come to pertaining to it. It already belonged to someone?

_Yes, moron!_, she answered for herself. _It belongs to him._ Lena laughed despite herself.

She was in love with Lancelot.

And as a mental image of the knight floated into her mind, so did a voice that disturbed her to no end.

It was her own.

"_Three for one, three for one_." It whispered again and again.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Wow, okay. It's 3: 30 in the morning and I'm about to pass out…but I had to get this finished. This chapter was driving me crazy. Sorry that it was such a long wait, I was gone on vacation for two weeks and didn't have any way to work on this.

I'm not so sure about this chapter. I feel like it came out really weird and crazy and doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Especially the end and the whole dead Balor part...Eh, please tell me what you think. I'd love to hear what you guys all thought.

I don't know when the next update will be, as I'm resuming classes in less than a week. I can't believe that I've been writing this story since the end of last summer. A YEAR? Weeeeeiiird.

**Review Responses**:

**Mae**: Thanks, and monkeys are pretty cool.

**Sorceress Misha**: Lena did get a bit better in this chapter, though she's still going to be plenty conflicted. But what's a story without any conflict? I wont be making things easy for them too soon.

**TriGemini**: Thanks! And, yes, Lena's past and her father do really suck…but that's a whole lot of what makes Lena who she is. And Lancelot does realize that the sight it hard for her to deal with, but he's being a bit of a selfish moron…I sort of thought that was more in character of him then just being like "That's cool, lemme help you." Thanks for your other review as well. Yup, Balor's got it bad for Lena.

**Irishfire**: Thank you! I always love your reviews- this one made me feel so much better about those chapters. And I'm glad you liked Lancelot in the vision. I wanted to explain part of her past without making it too boring, so I figured, why not just have pretty boy stand around? That always makes things more interesting. Oh, and, you know, the little tiny part where it's a huge character development point. Lol. Thanks again.

**Evenstar-mor2004**: Well, I think all the worth-proving is going to take place next chapter…but I hope he's a bit more in character by now.

**LANCELOTTRISTANBABY**: Thank you! I hope you like this chapter. And I've probably already said this, but I like your penname.

**Raz 42492**: Oye, I hope there's chemistry between them by now. They're all admitting to being in love and what not. Lol. I would have smacked her father a couple of times myself if I could have.

**AngelTears1328**: Thanks!

**HyperSquishy**: Haha! Lol, I really disliked Balor in the last couple chapters as I was writing him. But I hope you saw the okay side of him in this one. Don't worry though; he'll be going away eventually.

**Kay50**: Thank you very much

**Kal's Gal**: Lol…I'm quite happy to hear you state your mind, please, go right ahead and do so again. I think I might have gone a bit overboard when I was trying to make Balor unlikable before. Maybe this chapter redeemed him a bit? Though he's still not right for Lena.

**Neveah101**: Wow, thanks. Haha, don't worry, I've had much worse stalker moments myself…erm, I mean….what? Yeah, but thanks for your review, It made me feel a lot better about the whole getting flamed thing.

Okay, that took FOR-EV-ER….I'm going to go sleep for the next 16 hours….

Thanks all!

Blue


	14. Strange Dreams and the Wait for Oblivion

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**A/N:** Wowzahs. Guys, that is if any of you guys are still even reading this, I am so unbelievably sorry. This year has been so hectic and crazy and jam-packed with homework and school plays and working at the hospital that I have barely found anytime to write. This school year is really important, and my parents have gone a little nutzo on me. As much as I hate to say it (and as hard as try to imagine it untrue) there are about ten billion other things that come before fan fiction in my life (many of them are not by my choice, believe me). I have been, and will continue, to try my hardest to update, but I can't make promises. I hope you guys can understand that. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.

p.s. This chapter is kind of redundant, and not exactly the storm I was promising, but bare with me guys. I needed to just write SOMETHING, and this is what came out, plus it sets up so more important stuff.

**Choices**

**Chapter 14: Strange Dreams and the Wait for Oblivion**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Lena stood in a thick fog. Men ran in and out of her line of vision but none could seem to penetrate the dastardly fog. She saw no one clearly, but this was obviously a battle. Blood soaked the earth beneath her, blood fell from the sky above her; the world was made of fog and blood.

_Three for one_

A voice whispered the same words she had heard during her vision on the wall with Balor. She could not identify it as her own voice this time, however. It was quiet and harsh, all together unnatural sounding. It was inside of her, surrounding her, a voice that was everywhere. It filled the air and made her cold, made her head throb, made her spine ache, made her shake from nerves and fear, made her hands clammy with cold sweat.

_Three for one_

Lena let out a cry and frantically tried to search through the fog for something, anything, that the voice wanted her to see.

_Three for one_

Balor. Balor was there, kneeling, defenseless before a Saxon. She knew this scene, this haunting scene. Lena knew what would happen next and she screamed hysterically because she could not move. She could hardly see through the fog, she could not see any more of the Saxon than she had before. Why was she seeing this? What could it show her that she did not already know?

_Three for one_

The voice grew louder and Lena screamed again. "Why do I have to see this!" she did not know who she was asking, but she felt someone had to explain. "What are you showing me? I don't want to see this!" The Saxon raised his blade above Balor's head, and Lena turned away. She would not watch this again, she could not. She turned sharply, and as she did the fog seemed to thin. The voice grew louder.

_Three for one_

She squinted her eyes and peered through the now lighter fog. Was it not over? Why was she still here when Balor was already dead? Two men were fighting, Balor and the Saxon? Did she have to watch the whole vision through before it would release her? No, no, these were not the same two men. The fog had cleared substantially, but it was still dense enough to greatly obscure Lena's vision. One of the men was a Saxon, a tall long-haired Saxon. The other she could not see as easily, but he did not look like a Woad. Metal glinted suddenly, reflecting sunlight and momentarily blinding Lena. A sword. It was a sword that had caught the light, a curved sword. Strange that it had shone so brightly when there was so little light in this place. A piercing cry came somewhere from above and Lena looked up, trying to locate its source. Nothing but fog was above her. When she looked back to the fighting men, one of them had disappeared. The Saxon remained, but had his back to her now. He was walking away and she could not follow.

_Three for one_

The voice was nearly yelling this time, it almost sounded frantic. An arrow shot out of the fog and whizzed by Lena's face. She let out startled scream and threw herself to the side. Lena got up quickly though, determined to see the shooter. No one stood in the direction the arrow had flown from, but in her minds eye flashed a very vague image of the man she recognized as Balor's killer. "It's the same man." She whispered to herself. But what was he shooting at?

_**Three for one**_

This time the voice was shrill and painfully loud. Lena turned to face the direction the Saxon had shot toward, and found herself too horrified to even scream at what met her. The fog had almost fully dissipated, and standing no more than a foot from her was Lancelot. His eyes were distant and clouded with pain, he could not see her and he could not see the battle. The arrow protruding from his chest had cause a wound that was, without a doubt, fatal. Lancelot would die.

_THREE FOR ONE_

Lena stumbled backward, covering her ears; the voice was unbearable. She tripped on something as she continued to back away and closed her eyes. She never met the ground though, and when she reopened her eyes she was in a room, a very dark room. A woman lay on the bed that sat in the center of the room. She was a sickly and familiar, although unidentifiable woman. Lena tried to move closer but as soon as she did she was assaulted again by the terrifying voice.

_THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE_

Lena covered her ears. The sound was deafening and shrill, the words were audible but no longer sounded as though they were being spoken by a human voice. The piercing sound of a sword being sharpened only magnified a thousand fold, or maybe the shriek of some unholy bird were the closest things Lena could relate the horrible scream to. Lena had to get closer though, she had to see the woman on the bed.

_THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE_

It grew louder and louder as she approached. "STOP!" She screamed back. "STOP! PLEASE!" It was excruciating. Lena tumbled to her knees, she could hardly see a thing. Her eyes were watering and her vision blurred. "LET ME SEE HER!" Lena screamed angrily as she attempted to crawl closer to the bed.

_**THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE**_

Suddenly her hands were wet. Lena removed them from her ears and found them covered in blood. Her own blood. She had started bleeding from the ears. She didn't care though; she was close enough to the bed to hoist herself up a see the sleeping woman. Her hands stained the bed frame red as she rose. She looked down on the woman, her vision still blurred by her watering eyes, but now also blurred by the blackness that seemed to be closing in on her mind. Lena shook her head fiercely, trying to clear her sight. She had to see this woman. Dark hair and a pale face greeted her. A face she had not seen in a very long time, but one she could not forget. She could not understand though. What could this mean?

_**THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE**_

"Mother?" Her whisper was lost under the sound of the terrible voice.

_**THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE, THREE FOR ONE**_

And then everything was black.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A scream broke the silence of the dark night. A wordless but pained scream rattled through the halls of Hadrian's Wall, and made its way into the quarters of sleeping knights. Guinevere stirred lightly in her sleep. Another piercing scream. The Woad princess sat bolt upright and gasped at the sound, her movements waking the man beside her. It took her a moment to register where she was, but the night before came flooding back suddenly and Guinevere nearly blushed.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked as he reached up and placed a comforting hand on the side of her face. She had come to his room last night after leaving the fortress wall. Things had, shall we say, _progressed_ quiet rapidly there after.

"Did you hear that?" Guinevere asked worriedly.

"Hear wha—" Arthur's question was cut off by yet another scream. The couple looked at each other quickly before scrambling out of the bed, hurriedly locating their clothing on the floor, and dashing out of the room.

"I know that voice." Guinevere panted as she sped down the hall towards the infirmary. Some of the other knights were immerging from their rooms now and, seeing Arthur and Guinevere speed by, followed without hesitation.

A very sleepy and confused Galahad stepped out from his quarters. "What the bloody hell is going on? Who's making this bloody racket?" He grumbled before following the others. By the time he reached the infirmary all the other knights had long since arrived. A scream of "STOP!" caught his attention, and he immediately realized that Lena was in fact making this bloody racket. "STOP PLEASE!" The youngest knight looked around the room. Everyone was dead still save for Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur. The latter two seemed to be holding Lancelot back.

"You have to wake her!" Lancelot yelled.

"We can't!" Guinevere yelled back. Lancelot made a move to come closer to the suffering Woad, but Guinevere put herself in his way. "DON'T TOUCH HER!" The Woad woman cried with so much force that it surprised all of the knights.

"She is SCREAMING for help!" The knight attempted to move past Guinevere, but she threw herself forward and pushed him away.

"You DO NOT understand!" She put her hands on his shoulders and attempted to keep him back. "Arthur, help me please!" She called over her shoulder. The half-Roman quickly put himself between his best friend and his lover. He gave Lancelot a look that made it clear he would not get any closer to Lena than this.

"I UNDERSTAND that she is in PAIN, and that you _choose_ to leave her there!" Lancelot yelled around his friend. He cast the young Woad Seer a look. "Look at her! How can you LEAVE her like that!" The entire room, which had been focused on the fighting Guinevere and Lancelot, shifted their eyes to Lena. Her breathing was heavy and erratic; her face was contorted in obvious agony.

"This is her purpose! This is her life and there is NOTHING anyone can do! I have NO CHOICE!" Guinevere spat the words angrily.

"Her PURPOSE? Her PURPOSE is to SUFFER!" Lancelot shouted with a disbelieving laugh.

"YES!" Glaring, Guinevere screamed the word from her place behind Arthur. Lancelot fell silent, his eyes trained on a spot on the floor, and Guinevere's look softened considerably. "Do not presume that you are the only one who cares for her, Lancelot. You are not the only one who suffers with her." The knight looked up at Guinevere and in his eyes she could she a somber apology. He was not angry with Guinevere; he had not wanted to fight with her. He was angry with himself, angry that he had been afraid of Lena's sight, and that by pushing her away because of it, he had only caused her more suffering. She had suffered enough by the looks of it, and did not need his stupidity to add to her burden.

The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. One word broke it though. One simple and disbelieving word that caused Guinevere to run to Lena's bedside, brows knitted in confusion.

"Mother?" And then a gasp followed the simple question, a gasp like that of a man who long being held underwater, was finally able to breathe again. Lena shot up as her eyes snapped open and she gulped down the air around her greedily. Her eyes darted sporadically around the room before resting finally on one thing. A sword. It captured the dim light of one of the few candles in the infirmary, and glinted palely. A strange, curved sword. Lena's eyes moved slowly up the graceful blade, then the hilt, then a hand, next an arm, a chest, broad shoulders, tensed neck, and finally, a face. A passive, though keenly alert face. Tristan. Lena held his is eyes for a moment, and the detached, collected knight seemed almost unnerved by the look she gave him. The sword from the vision belonged to Tristan. Tristan, Lancelot, and Balor. Those were her three. If she could kill the bald man, fate would see to it that the three lived. _Three for one_, she thought to herself quietly. _I can do this, I **must** do this._

Everyone was slightly startled when she spoke; the calm manner in which she let the words arrange themselves was entirely unnatural after such terrible and violent screaming. "Everyone needs to sleep." She stated simply. "Go back to bed. I'm sorry to have woken you."

"What have you seen, Lena?" Guinevere asked gently, kneeling by her bedside. "Tell me so you do not forget."

"I cannot forget this, you needn't worry over that." She replied with a humorless smile.

"Lena, you know you must tell me." Guinevere persisted.

"No." Something inside her told Lena that the voice was meant solely to be heard by her own ears. This was not to be shared. It was her duty and hers alone.

"Lena, it is not a ques—" Guinevere was cut off by a stern and decisive answer.

"This is not for you to know, cousin." The sharpness of her voice surprised Guinevere. "I am fine now. Everyone needs sleep. Please, you are all very kind, but leave now." The knights all shared a look of collective confusion, but obliged despite it. Slowly they exited the room and returned to their sleeping chambers, all except Guinevere, Lancelot, and Arthur.

"Lena, please, just tell me this; what did it have to do with your mother?" Guinevere made one final attempt.

"I do not know yet." Lena answered honestly. The need to help was evident in Guinevere's eyes; she wanted to understand Lena, to comfort her. Lena gave her cousin a brave smile. "I fear you love me too much, cousin. _Please_, sleep. You will need your rest." Guinevere opened her mouth as if to refute the statement, but Lena continued before she could. "Your presence alone has been more of a comfort than you could know. The only thing you could do now to help would be to sleep, so that _I_ needn't worry over _you_."

Guinevere smiled disappointedly, but still reached out and squeezed Lena's hand lovingly before standing and leaving the room. Lena and Arthur exchanged respectful nods before the man followed Guinevere. Only Lancelot remained.

Lena looked to him with weary eyes. Weary not only because of the small bit of fitful sleep she had obtained this night, but weary of life. Weary of suffering, weary of her breaking body, and of her broken spirit. Lancelot could see the weariness. He could see how it had grown in the last few days. _Days_. It felt like lifetimes they had known each other. It felt like thousand of lifetimes reflected to him in Lena's eyes. Lifetimes that weighed her down, made her slow and sleepy. _I'm sorry_. The words sat on the tip of his tongue. _I am sorry you are so incredibly pained. I'm sorry that I have added to it. I'm sorry that you have to be the one to carry this. I wish it were someone, anyone, but you._ Lena held his gaze with those terribly weary eyes, waiting for him to speak. She was neither expectant nor hopeful, but simply waited with the patience of one of Arthur's Christian Saints. Her fatigued patience made Lancelot's heart twist painfully in his chest. It was so unfair that she was forced to become so…_old_ under the weight of her terrible gift.

_I wish it were me, if only so that your eyes were not so tired. _

Lena let out a barely audible sigh before speaking. "Rest, Lancelot. It is very late, and I feel as though I could sleep ten thousand years. I know you are tired too. You are good to have stayed here with me after the others, but you need sleep as well." Lancelot felt himself nod and begin to move away involuntarily. The ground was slipping by under his feet, the door was approaching rapidly. But, no! He wanted to stay, he wanted to speak with Lena, tell her. He had to speak! Speak!

"Goodnight, Lena." His voice was hoarse and unusually high-pitched. Those were not the words he had intended. That was not what he was supposed to have said. Unable to face her any longer he exited the room, grimacing at what a fool he had become. He had been charming once. Smooth and charming and extraordinarily attractive. And though, he had to admit, he remained extraordinarily attractive, he had somehow become a dud. A giant, miserable dud. This was what love had reduced him to. But, he mused as he made his way to his quarters, he would not change it if he had the choice. He would not trade his pathetic, love-sick, dudly-ness for anything in the world.

Lena, meanwhile, still sitting upright in her bed in the now empty room, whispered a "Goodnight" in return, but Lancelot could not hear it, he was already gone. Lena let herself collapse into the cot. She lay, for a long while, simply staring at the ceiling before breaking into tears. The sobs that wracked her body felt involuntary, she could not control them, hard as she tired. Tears streamed heavily down her face, reliving a bit of the pressure that was caused by the overbearing weight on her chest, the weight that was always with her, constantly crushing her body from every angle. That weight, that terrible weight, she felt it was the only thing that kept her from falling off the face of the earth, into blackness and oblivion. But she welcomed an eternity of falling through nothingness. She welcomed oblivion. Anything. Anything was better than this constant, exhausting weight on her soul. And she was tired. She was so _weary_. As soon as Lena felt sleep start to tug on her eyelids she gave in.

_Oblivion._ It was the most beautiful word she had every heard, her drowsy mind thought.

_Soon. Soon. But not yet. _Something told her.

_Three for one, three for one, three for one._ The words were inside her, flowing through her blood. Soon, she could rest, but first she had to see through her most important undertaking. Her _last. _

XXXXXXXX

Okay guys, tell me what you thought, PLEASE, I'm dying for your thoughts on this one.

I heard a rumor that we aren't allowed to do review responses in the chapters anymore (which SUUUUCKS, motha effas!...uh, forget that outburst…please) but someone asked along time ago where I had gotten the KA script, and I just re-found the site. It's called Fallen Knights (it's a pretty kick-ass fansite, might I add), and here's the url hope it helps!

Love you all and, again, I am dreadfully sorry and completely at your mercy my darling readers,

BLue


	15. Curse and Blessing, All at Once

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**A/N**: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Still not the battle…but I actually kind of like this chapter.

p.s. I'm sorry?

**Choices**

**Chapter 15: Curse and Blessing, All at Once**

**XXXXXXXXX**

It was early. So early, in fact, that the sun had not yet risen. The world was bathed in the strange, grey half light that comes just before sun rise. Lena loved this time, when the world was quiet. She felt like a ghost as she wandered through the halls of Hadrian's Wall. Or maybe like the only human being on earth—the thought was a little bit lonely, but beautiful nonetheless. Today would be full of heat and blood and chaos. The image of the battle to come was somehow grotesque in comparison to the simple, calm loveliness of this moment.

Lena breathed the cool air deeply as she walked, running one had over the wall to her left. She made sure to be quiet as she made her way down the hall. These were the knight's quarters and she did not wish to wake them. They would need the rest for today, even if they did not yet know they would partake in the battle. Lena stopped as her hand made contact with one of the large wooden doors. Just the door she was looking for. She knew the knight inside was already awake, and probably well aware of her presence outside his door. Lena wasn't exactly sure what she was going to say, but she knew that the sight had lead her here for a reason—it had told her that this was the right door, the right room—Lena was certain it would make sure she had something to say when the time came. She knocked hesitantly and held her breath. No sounds came from the room but a moment later the door swung open.

Tristan stood before her shirtless and armed with the curved blade Lena recalled from her vision. He didn't look particularly surprised to she her, which Lena had grown somewhat accustomed to, being that he never looked much of anything in the way of surprised…ever. Tristan gave the girl a once over before speaking. "Lancelot's room is three doors down." Lena gaped for a moment, and then realized that he was already closing the door. She stuck an arm out and stopped it from closing any further.

"I was looking for you." She stated somewhat curtly. "May I come in?" Tristan said nothing, but opened the door fully once more. Lena entered and heard him close the door again behind her. She stood with her back to him, and felt his eyes on her. Lena scanned his room quickly. It was neat…and empty aside from a few necessities. A pang of sadness shot through her at the sight of it and her heart went out to Tristan. There was something about the room that so reminded her of the man…something dark and incredibly lonely.

Lena shook her head and turned to face the knight. He was watching her intently, and though he didn't show it, she was sure he was at least somewhat puzzled by her presence in his room so early in the morning. "I need to speak with you." Tristan gave a slight nod and then motioned to a chair that sat facing his bed. Lena took the chair and Tristan sat on the edge of his bed.

Lena was silent for a moment before starting. "I—I know that you and the knights are leaving this morning, and that you've decided not to stay and fight—and it's not that I'm here to try and dissuade you or change your mind or anything of the sort—I'm just afraid that what I have to say may not make any sense because of this." Lena paused and searched Tristan's face, hoping for some small sign that he understood what she was going on about. She found none and struggled with what to say next. Lena's eyes darted around the room and landed finally on the sword still in Tristan's hand. Tristan noticed the change in her immediately.

She sat much taller, much prouder, and her eyes faded—turned a ghostly color of grey that almost made her irises disappear completely. Her voice, when she spoke, lost all its usual meekness—it became strong, commanding, and otherworldly almost. "Tristan," she began, staring at him pointedly all the while. "He is not yours to kill." At this Tristan was blatantly confused, though still he managed to show no sign of it. "I warn you now, so listen well, Knight, and you shall be spared. Do not cross his path. Fate has shown great mercy in cautioning you—do not discount it." Lena's eyes were beginning to return to they're normal shade of green as she continued. "His life belongs to Arthur. Stay away."

Lena took a great breath then began to cough violently. She braced herself against her knees as she shook. After a moment or two the cough subsided and she looked up to Tristan once again. Her eyes, he observed, were completely normal again, and overall Lena herself looked a bit confused and shaken. She stood abruptly and looked to the Knight hopefully. Still sputtering a little with the cough she began to speak. "I—you, you _will_ understand," Lena held her sleeve to her mouth as she coughed once more. The Woad started to look uneasy on her feet so Tristan stood and moved closer, ready to support her, but Lena held out a shaky hand to stop him. "No, no I'm fine; I'll be all right, just—just listen! You must remember what I've said! I—I know I sound mad, but please, _please_ promise me that you will remember it, and _heed_ it Tristan, you _must _heed it." The girl looked increasingly weak as she backed away towards the door. "_Please_." Lena turned away to open the door, leaning heavily on it as she did so. She turned back once before closing the door. The Knight made no indication that he had anything to say at all. "You," a look similar to, but less severe than the one that had taken her over as she spoke of fate again crossed Lena's young face, "you will understand all too soon of what I speak." And then the Woad began to cough again—Tristan could hear her still as she made her way down the hall, long after she had closed his door, leaving him alone in the middle of his room.

The Knight stood in silence, as usual, and stared at the doorway where Lena had just been. He wasn't sure what had just happened, or what any of it had meant, but he understood that he should remember it…and heed it as well, apparently. As he heard her coughing down the hallway, Tristan felt an outpouring of concern so sincere that he came as close to externally expressing it as he could have. It was something about her weakness and selflessness combined with the strength and force of her convictions—a strange clash of innocence and youth with experience and undeserved age, that made him feel for her as though she were some sickly sister of his. He sighed very softly when he could no longer hear her rattling away. When in her presence, Tristan found that it felt something like standing in front of a dying child. One look at her face and you could tell— Lena _was_ a dying child. Strange, that just days ago he had thought of her as a danger—he had even held her against a tree in the middle of the forest threatening to choke her…Now all he could see was her overwhelming weariness.

The Knight stood thoughtfully a moment longer. Yes, he would heed her warning— as long as he _could._

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

Lena continued to stumble back to the infirmary. She would wait there until Guinevere came, which would be soon no doubt, and then together they would join up with their fellow Woads. As she thought things through, Lena had to pause and lean against a wall until she could catch her breath. Once she resumed her clumsy trudge back to the infirmary the cough began anew and she was forced to stop yet another time. The warning she had given to Tristan had required more of her than Lena had anticipated. The Sight in itself was draining enough, but to remain entirely conscious and aware—to speak and see the world around her while taking in so many things from the other world, from the future, and of fate—was nearly impossible, especially in her weakened state.

Lena rested her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. She did not understand why the Sight had lead her to Tristan, or what her warning had to do with the short bald Saxon whose life she could take in exchange for the three men. Lancelot and Balor could both obviously be saved by the Saxon's death, but in her vision, Tristan had fought a different man entirely. All Lena knew was that she had followed the Sight, and that it had lead her to Tristan, and then to the warning she had given—she could only assume that it had set in motion a plan that would involve the short bald Saxon, the long haired Saxon, the three men, and herself.

What she, more than anything else, could _not_ understand, was what any of it had to do with her mother. She had looked so frail and sickly and small in the large bed Lena had seen her in during the vision. Perhaps it was something from the past? Could it have been some memory that had accidentally worked its way into her vision? But, as far as she knew, the Sight never did anything accidental…and Lena had never seen her mother look so ill, not until she died at least, and even then, their home had never been anything like the room the Sight had shown her. Lena stopped herself from thinking any further on the subject. It would not do to dwell, and the Sight would make sure things fell into place…she hoped.

Lena realized she had barely made any progress since leaving Tristan's room and found herself wishing she had accepted his help. She resumed her feeble hobble, and was struck with a fresh round of coughing, this time louder and more intense. The Woad doubled over and attempted to muffle the noise with her hands, but found very little success. She had wanted to come and go quietly, without disturbing anyone but Tristan, and now it seemed she'd wake the entire Wall within several minutes time.

_Or perhaps it was simply a matter of seconds_, she thought bitterly, seeing the door to her right open. Being that she was still entirely bent over, all that greeted her were a pair of feet. Lena turned herself upright as quickly as she could and found herself face to face with a bare-chested, sleepy looking Lancelot.

"_Lancelot's room is three doors down."_

_One. Two. Three._ The Woad counted just to make sure before being suddenly overcome by faintness. She had straightened herself out too quickly, and now all the blood was rushing from her head. That, in combination with the fact that the Sight had already weakened her and made her quite unstable, made for a bad reaction. "I can't stand—" Lena confessed as she stumbled back a step.

"Me? You can't stand me?" Lancelot asked, looking mildly horrified. This was not the way he'd hoped to begin a conversation with Lena.

"No, I can't STAND." She clarified earnestly. The Woad's knees went, and before Lancelot had time to hear the end of the sentence she had already collided with the floor. Her eyes met with Lancelot's and the dull pain the ebbed through her from the jolt of the cold, hard floor reminded her of having avoided exactly this pain, just days ago, when the Knight _had_ caught her. Dear Gods, she wished he could have caught her again, just to be close to him.

Lancelot seemed frozen until Lena began to cough again, not as badly as before but still quite impressively. "You should return to the infirmary." He stated, kneeling beside her.

Lena took a rattling breath. "I was trying to." Lancelot looked her over. Her face was pale and flushed, her palms pressed hard against the floor, and her breathing labored. There was something he had to be able to do or say. He didn't know how to speak to her—Gods; he'd forgotten how to speak at all! Words, words—he knew what they were, he had known once what they were. Couldn't he think of any words, any at all? He found none, so instead of speaking, he did all her _could_ think to do. He put an arm around Lena's back, and the other beneath her knees, lifted her, and then carried her like a bride.

Lena looked surprised momentarily, and for a second Lancelot was afraid she would protest and insist he let her be, but she settled into his arms comfortably. She fit well in his arms, he realized; there was no jabbing or poking. She molded to him against his skin, and the pleasant weight of her small body made Lancelot feel steady and warm.

Lena herself felt pleasantly warm in his arms. Warm and thankful. Lancelot may have found her monstrous, but at least he was a good enough man to help her. He was strong in all the ways Lena was not, and for a moment, the Woad found solace in his strength, and in his nearness. If only for that one moment, while Lena could feel both physically and mentally close to the Knight, she could pretend that she had a chance at loving him as a normal person could. This heat, this closeness, this comfort, and this strange falling sensation in the pit of her stomach could be real, could be like love should be.

But then, as quickly as it had come, it was over, and Lena was lying on a cot in the infirmary, Lancelot standing above her. The Woad looked a little better, and her coughing had all but disappeared, though she still looked considerably put out. "You're not well." Lancelot began. "I'll go find Etta."

"No!" Lena protested more vehemently than was necessary. "I—there is nothing she can do to help me." It was true, but Lena knew that more than anything else she simply wanted Lancelot beside her a little longer.

The Knight gave a confused look. "Why? She was treating you before, was she not?"

"Yes." Lena nodded and looked away uncomfortably. "But this was brought on by the Sight—it sometimes—you see it can be demanding in a physical sense, especially when one is not in full health—I, forgive me. I shouldn't speak of such things with you." She finished abruptly, not wishing to scare him away again with talk of her gifts.

"No." Lancelot stated forcefully as he sat himself on the side of her cot. "You can speak of it. Whenever you like you can speak of it, and I promise I will listen."

Lena furrowed her brow. "And what an empty promise!" She stated disbelievingly. "You ran away, you _quiet_ _literally_ ran from me when last in that situation, Lancelot." The worst part of what she was saying, Lancelot realized miserably, was not in what she was actually speaking of—he knew all that already—but it was in the way she said it. Disheartened, defeated, and passive— those were the words that came to mind at the sound of her hopeless voice. She was not even angry. It would have been better if she had shown some kind of emotion other than complete resignation.

"Lena," The Knight began. "I swear I did not run from you then." Lena looked away from him and Lancelot reached out and placed a palm to the side of her face carefully. "I am not afraid of you." He said truthfully. "I could not face you, because I was ashamed of my own actions towards you." Lena looked back to him and found only sincerity in his face. "I'm sorry." The Knight finished and felt a huge weight lift; he had wanted to apologize like this from the moment that he had first offended her.

"Thank you—it is nice to hear." Lena said, closing her eyes slowly. "I have become very tired waiting to hear it said by someone." Lancelot looked down on Lena and found himself thinking that if she had been blessed enough to avoid this curse, to stay healthy and young—she would have been uncommonly beautiful. The girl was already beautiful, more beautiful than anyone Lancelot could remember having seen in his life, but her weakness and frailty were so obvious, and had become so much more obvious in just this last day.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out, spurred on by his recent thoughts.

Lena laughed a little bit confusedly. "You already said that, Lancelot. I really am not angry."

"No." He said, leaning closer to her, looking to her pleadingly. "I am so sorry that this is your life. That you must be so burdened and old, and that you must see the things you see, the horrors that Guinevere told us of. Lena," He said, bringing his other hand to her soft, dark hair. "This pain should not be yours. You should have so much more th—"

The Knight was silenced when Lena brought her pale, cool hand to rest on his own. When she spoke there was a heartbreaking calm and peace about her voice that made Lancelot want to hold her. "It is not your fault." She said simply, earnestly. "And, Lancelot, my life has not been so horrible." Lena stated. She sat herself up so that they were more or less level, and continued to hold his hand. "I have seen _wonderful_ things because of this curse, Lancelot. I have seen times and places that no human could dream of. I have seen this world, this _whole_ world at its worst and at its finest, and I tell you, friend, it is a beautiful thing." Lena took a shaky breath and smiled. "I have visited every place on this earth that is or has been or _will_ be—there are things I know of that I do not even understand, but I have _seen _them, Lancelot. I have lived through so many eyes and times and places and things— I've seen the land and the sky and the sea. I have known all the joys and pains of life." Lena looked down for a moment and continued. "It is much to know—too much for anyone person I suppose, and if the choice were mine I do not think that I would want this wisdom, but I _have_ it and from it I have great power. It's true," Lena stated. "I have seen tragedy and death and crime and hate—I have seen man push itself to the brink of destruction more than once, but each time I have had the fortune to see it redeem itself again." Lancelot noticed how Lena's eyes were sparkling in a way he had never before seen. "It is a burden, knowing the horrors of life—but the wisdom that that knowledge has given me has served to let me understand fully life's beauties as well. Do not pity me Lancelot, do not feel sorry—I am not sure that the beauty of my life validates its tragedy, but I know that I have lived more fully, and learned more from life than any man could ask to. And, yes, I will die young, I will die soon—and perhaps that is unfair, but I will not die empty." Lena released Lancelot's hand and he moved it to her cheek. "I have seen horrible things, Lancelot, but I have seen goodness that only Gods can speak of."

Lancelot had no words to respond with. He had no voice, no power, no sense. He did the only thing that felt right—the only thing he could think to do. He leaned in, still holding the Woad's face in his hands. He could feel her breath against him, could feel it mingling with his own in the small space between them. Lena's hands were on his arms, his shoulders his chest—her skin against his felt like fire flooding through his veins. He was close to her, and he wanted to be closer, he wanted to hold her against him as tightly as he could, tighter, and closer. Their lips were centimeters away, her soft and perfect lips were so close he could taste her, smell her—now he wanted to _feel_ her. Lancelot moved in, ready to devour her, ready to be devoured.

"Lena." A familiar voice came from the doorway and the pair turned toward it, startled. Both Lancelot and Lena rose abruptly to face Guinevere, who stood watching, uncomfortably and somewhat disapprovingly, at the end of the room. "It's time." She stated before turning and waiting outside of the door.

When Lancelot's eyes once again found Lena's he realized hers were no longer filled with the hungry heat of the moment before. She was all business now. "I—Goodbye, Lancelot." She turned away and started to leave before changing her mind and spinning back. Two hands on his shoulders, and on tiptoe, Lena was able to reach up and place a kiss on his cheek. "Be careful." She whispered, her lips barely brushing the side of his face as she did so. She could tell he was furrowing his brow at her words. Why did _he_ need to be careful? Lena was the one heading off to battle.

Lena's heart was ready to burst as she began to walk away, but before she could Lancelot had wrapped two arms around her and was holding her tightly against him. They stood still for a moment before the Knight placed a kiss on her forehead and released her. Lena smiled sadly before backing out of the room completely and walking away with Guinevere.

_I love you, I love you, I love you_, Lancelot's heart called out desperately.

Walking down the hallway, Lena clutched her chest. "What's wrong?" Guinevere asked with concern.

Lena took a deep breath and gave a discrete but genuine smile. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong."

_I love you, I love you, I love you_, her heart called back to him.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Please forgive me! And also review! Sorry guys—I love you!

Blue


	16. Don't Be Afraid

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I'm being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.

**A/N:** Battle, finally! I know it was kind of a long wait, but I was out of town and a month is pretty good for me.

**Choices**

**Chapter 16 :** **Don't Be Afraid**

Arthur sat atop his horse in full battle gear. The strategic smoke burning from lines of tar that had been set up clouded the air, but from where he was Arthur could still manage to see everyone; the Saxons who sat ominously just outside the Wall, the Woads who sat waiting for his command within the Wall, and his men too, who now rode from the Wall they had called their home. The Knights were riding away from him and toward their freedom, and though Arthur knew that any other man might have been bitter over the knowledge of this departure, it brought him only peace. They had lost many knights over the years. He had failed many brothers. But he would not fail these six. They would know freedom; they had it now in their hands. The fact that they chose to return to their rightful homes, to the lives they had always deserved, rather than remain here with him was their choice.

How beautiful that they now had the freedom to make that choice.

He could not be bitter or angry that they did not stay. Arthur wanted them to live. To seize the lives that had, from their first breaths, belonged to them. Even if it meant he died alone, he understood. No matter what decision they made, he could only be thankful that it was theirs to make.

Arthur watched as the caravan made its way further from the wall. He watched his men solemnly, and he knew that they were watching him too. He saw as Bors broke away from the pack and galloped towards the bottom of the low hill which Arthur sat atop of.

"Artorius!" He screamed, saluting Arthur with his sword. "RUSSSSSSS!"

Arthur was silent for a moment before returning the call. "RUSSSSSSSS!" He yelled back with all his soul, raising his standard in the air. Bors looked torn for a second before returning to the caravan and falling in place with the other knights as they continued the journey away from Hadrian's Wall.

And then they were out of sight. They were gone. This was the end.

Arthur turned his gaze towards the Saxons who still sat on the opposite side of the wall and scrunched his face in doubt at what he saw. They were waving a white flag. He hesitated for a moment before taking off at a gallop to meet them at the doors. Once he had passed through the arches that lead out of the enclosure he found himself staring at a lone man—the Saxon leader, no doubt. Arthur brought his horse to a halt in front of the man. The animal was jumpy and anxious, it didn't bode well with this Saxon, and neither did Arthur.

"Arthur." His voice was gravelly and low. "Wherever I go on this wretched island, I hear your name. Always half whispered, as if you were a... god." Arthur was circling him, but the man kept their eyes locked. "All I see is flesh, blood. No more god than the creature you're sitting on."

"Speak your terms, Saxon." Arthur said plainly. He wanted this to begin. No more waiting.

The man gave a scoff. "The Romans have left you. What are you fighting for?"

Arthur continued to stare him dead in the eyes. "I fight for a cause beyond Rome's or your understanding."

The man smiled a smile that could make blood run cold. "You've come to beg a truce. You should be on your knees."

That was enough. Arthur drew Excalibur and pointed it straight at the Saxon. "I came to see your face, so that I alone may find you on the battlefield, and it would be good for you if you marked my face, Saxon." His voice was low and solemn. "For the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth." Arthur turned his horse and rode away.

Faintly, as he entered the wall once again, he swore he could hear the man mumbling something. "Finally. A man worth killing." It sounded like he had said. Arthur shook his head. It must have been the wind.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Saxon drums made the ground tremble where Lena stood beside Guinevere, her bow strung, waiting along with the others for Arthur's command.

"I can't believe they left him." Guinevere stated somberly, her eyes glued to Arthur where he sat up on the hill. Lena looked to her cousin, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I wish they could have." She turned away, thinking of her dream from the night before. If the Knights really were going to leave neither Tristan nor Lancelot would have been in any danger. They _would_ return, and Lena's intuition told her it would be soon.

Guinevere was staring at her with raised brows, a disbelieving grin forming on her face. "They'll come back then!" She glanced up at Arthur quickly.

Lena shook her head. "Don't you see, Guinevere?" She asked. "They never left—they couldn't." Guinevere didn't seem to understand, so Lena nodded her head in the direction of the hill. "It was just a matter of them knowing that for themselves." Five fully armored knights where making their way to the top of the small hill. To Arthur.

Lena could make them out clearly even from here. Gawain, Galahad, Lancelot, Tristan, and Bors all sat proudly before their commander. Dagonet, no doubt, was still unconscious in one of the many caravan wagons, making his recovery. Lena could see that Arthur was speaking to them. Probably giving a heartfelt and moving speech that could give each of the men the necessary motivation to face this battle with courage. Lena watched their faces and found herself wishing she too could hear what Arthur had to say. As she watched the men the chant of "Saxon, Saxon, Saxon!" was growing louder from outside the wall. Her eyes lingered on Lancelot and she felt her stomach twist. She had to help them.

_Three for one, three for one, three for one_

The voice was like a continuous dull ache in the back of her mind. Lena shuttered involuntarily at the sound of it echoing through her head. She could do this. She could see to it that the lives of Balor, Tristan, and Lancelot were saved in exchange for the one Saxon man. She had to.

Lena shook off her thoughts. She would have to concentrate if she was going to get through this, and the Saxons were already approaching. The doors of the wall creaked open and a fraction of the Saxon army flooded in. The doors closed once again behind them and an eerie silence prevailed over the battlefield. Lena could see Guinevere draw back her bow from the corner of her eye and followed suit, as did the other Woads.

Balor stood on the opposite side of Guinevere, up front with all of the commanding Woads. Lena was watching him as well. When the real fighting started she would tag him until she found the bald Saxon who she was so determined to kill. Then everything would be all right. She would have to make sure Tristan heeded her warning and stayed away from the Saxon who had taken his life in her vision…provided she could figure exactly who that Saxon was. But first things first. She had to make sure Balor wasn't killed, and take care of that short bald Saxon.

Guinevere signaled silently for them to take aim and release. A shower of arrows sailed through the air and all that could be heard was their gentle whistling…that was, until they found their targets. The sound of screaming, confused Saxon soldiers overpowered all other noises then. The Woads continued to fire from a distance as the Knights made their way through the Saxon ranks on horseback, taking out men with every sweep of their swords. It was easy enough to handle the preliminary group of Saxon soldiers, and they had been virtually decimated within a matter of minutes.

It wasn't long before the rest of the Saxon army came streaming in, and then the real havoc broke out. The Woads released one round of flaming arrows, effectively igniting a strategically placed line of tar and separating the Saxon forces. After that the bows were abandoned for hand to hand combat, and it was basically every man for himself.

There were at least three men between Lena and Balor, but none of them remotely resembled the man from her vision. Balor seemed to be handling himself well enough, and Lena had to focus most of her energy on not getting her head sliced off. She was squaring off with a bulky Saxon who was assailing her with a hatchet. He took a swipe at her head and she ducked, narrowly escaping the blow. The man was huge, but what Lena lacked in size she made up for in speed. He went for her head again, leaving his left side open and Lena took the opportunity with a vengeance. One good slice across the side and that was that.

Lena tried to get a visual on Balor but before she could take the time to locate her friend another two Saxons were charging her. She spun away from one and as he passed she got a good stab at his back, sending him to the ground in a heap. The other wasn't so easily avoided and was able to nick her arm before she dispatched of him. She was in the clear for the moment and used it to her advantage, searching frantically for Balor. She couldn't find him at first and nearly panicked, but his blonde hair caught her eye eventually. He was a good twenty-five feet away and Lena quickly made her way in his direction. She had to kill 3 more Saxons before she was close enough to see the person Balor was fighting.

Dread shot through her like a lead weight, and the voice in her head was screaming. Lena knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the man Balor was fighting was the man she had to kill. He was short, and bald, and everything about him, from the ugly braided beard to the smug and chilling smile, made Lena's blood run cold.

Her body was moving before her mind had time to react, functioning solely on instinct. She was ducking, blocking, swiping, running, jumping over dead bodies that blocked her path—yet her eyes were always on Balor and the man. She could tell her friend was struggling already. Balor stumbled a little while blocking the Saxon's next blow and Lena almost screamed. She ran faster, dodging every Saxon she could and killing all the rest as quickly as possible. The bald Saxon had his sword raised and was ready to strike. Balor's stomach was exposed, and Lena knew that this was where her vision had begun. The man would slash Balor across the belly and have him on his knees. This would be the end.

Lena ran faster than she knew she could and before she was aware of what was happening her own sword had entered the fight, effectively blocking the fatal blow that would have been the end of her friend.

"Lena?" Balor sounded as confused as the Saxon looked. Lena took his confusion as an opportunity and didn't waste any time. She was taking swings at him before he had time to realize she was a threat. The Saxon began to defend himself, not to mention fight back with just as much gusto as Lena, while Balor stood to the side, dazed.

"GO!" Lena yelled over her shoulder to Balor while taking a shot at the Saxon. She nicked his side and gave a wicked smile. Every fiber of her being was telling her this man was horrid.

_Three for one, Three for one, Three for one._

The chant in her mind was a constant motivation to keep going. If she killed this man, things would turn out right.

Balor still stood by, dumbfounded. Lena wanted to tell him to run from this Saxon, but before the words could leave her mouth a fist had collided with her jaw. The bloody Saxon fought dirty.

Lena stumbled back from the blow and tripped over a corpse. Balor ran to her and two other Woads assailed the Saxon. Seeing as the man was occupied, Lena took the moment to speak hurriedly with Balor. "Listen," she began, wiping blood from her lip where it had split. "Run from this man. Do not fight him, do not come within fifty feet of him," Balor looked simultaneously concerned and confused. Lena grabbed his shoulder. "Balor! If you do not listen to me, you will die. I have seen it." Balor nodded before standing and helping Lena to her feet. "Go fight others, but not him." Balor gave her a serious look before running in the opposite direction, charging towards another group of Saxons.

With that Lena turned away, hoping to get back into it with the Saxon so she could finish him off. What she found, however, was that he was gone. She looked back to where Balor was hacking his way through Saxons and a bit of the weight on her shoulders lessened. The voice in her head was substantially quieter, and she knew that the Woad would be all right. Balor was safe now.

That, however, still did not change the fact that both Tristan and Lancelot (hopefully Tristan was out of harm's way if he had been wise enough to follow Lena's advice) were in danger of dying while that man was still alive. Lena scanned the battlefield, searching for her Saxon to no avail. Another giant Saxon soldier interrupted her search and she was forced to deal with him.

The man was a decent fighter. He was relying more on brute force than actual skill, but Lena was beginning to tire and it was working in his favor. He took a powerful swing at her right side and Lena moved out of the way at the last second, just barely saving her arm from being severed where the blow would have struck. She parried two more strikes then went for his left. The Saxon was quicker than Lena had assumed and ended up not only blocking her sword, but also catching her in the face with his elbow, effectively sending her to the ground. He brought his sword down on her but she rolled out of the way. This man was too much for her. Lena made a move to stand up but he was already over her, preparing to make the death blow. Suddenly the man stopped in his tracks. A vacant look passed over his face and a second later he was falling to the ground, his lifeless body pinning Lena to the floor. She struggled to push him off her, and once she had successfully freed herself she looked up to find Galahad standing over her.

The Knight removed his blade from the Saxon's back and gave Lena a nod before running off, letting out a terrific war cry, and charging the nearest Saxon. Lena stood dumbfounded for a second. And Galahad had always seemed so gentle…

Lena searched the battlefield for the Saxon man from her vision yet again. This time she found him…in the midst of a fight with Guinevere, who did not appear to be doing very well. Lena fought through a throng of Saxons to get to the bald Saxon and her injured cousin. As far as she knew, Guinevere was not in any danger of dying today, but by the way things looked, Lena judged it was a good idea to intervene as soon a possible.

It seemed that Lancelot had roughly the same notion, because he arrived just as Lena did, successfully blocking a blow that surely would have ended Guinevere's life. Lancelot and the Saxon began a fight of their own, while Guinevere and Lena were both assailed by two new Saxons. Guinevere killed her attacker quickly, and then stepped in to assist the struggling Lena. Together they dispatched of the remaining Saxon easily, though it seemed Lancelot was having more difficulty with the short, bald Saxon than he had anticipated. Lena watched with baited breath as they exchanged blows. She had to do something.

Before she knew her body was moving, Lena had thrown herself into the fight. She struck out at the Saxon but he blocked her and attempted an assault of his own. "You!" He yelled at Lena, recognizing her from the fight with Balor. "I thought you were dead!"

Another Saxon had approached Lancelot, taking him out of the fight. Now it was just Lena and her Saxon. They sparred off for several moments, each measuring the other's skill. He was good, Lena had to admit. Much better trained than an average Saxon, he was probably a high ranking commander or from a noble family. He took several swings at the Woad and she had difficulty blocking them. She went for his stomach and he took the opportunity to strike at her right arm, just above where the other Saxon had nicked her before. This time the wound was more substantial, and Lena dropped her sword in pain. She dodged his next several attacks but then with his left hand he punched her, hard, sending her flying. She rolled to the ground but he didn't come after her. He seemed more concerned with getting Lancelot back for taking away the kill he would have had with Guinevere than he was with finishing Lena off. Lancelot was still engaged with the other Saxon, and as Lena unsteadily sat herself up she could see that the bald Saxon was rifling over a corpse, trying to lift some weapon off of it. A crossbow. He was holding a crossbow. Lena's eyes widened at the realization that the man was aiming his bow at Lancelot, whose back was turned away after just having killed another Saxon. Lena scrambled for her sword and made a run for the Saxon. She was too far away—she could run fast, but not faster than an arrow. Lancelot was beginning to turn back towards the short Saxon, which meant the arrow would get him right in the chest…just like in Lena's dream. The Woad gripped her sword tightly. There was only one thing she could think to do and there was little chance it would work. She had never been good with daggers or throwing knives, her aim was imprecise. It was even worse with a full sized sword.

Lena looked skywards and prayed with all her heart to any God that was willing to listen. She brought her sword back, putting her whole body into it. She catapulted her weight forward and released the sword and a desperate scream, pain ripping through her injured arm. She watched as the sword flew through the air and felt her heart skip a beat when it found its mark. She had hit him. Lena's sword had struck just under the Saxon's arm, lodging itself between two ribs, puncturing his left lung, and slicing through his heart. A perfect hit. An impossible hit.

Lancelot turned around fully to find the Saxon dead on the ground, crossbow still pointed in his direction. His eyes followed the hilt of the sword protruding from the man's body until they reached Lena; breathless, bloody, overjoyed Lena. Their eyes met and Lena broke into a grin. The awful pressure on her body decreased, the screaming, haunting chant that had filled her brain since the night before was almost inaudible.

Lancelot would live.

She couldn't help but smile at that, even amidst the awful and bloody battle. He could live forever and forever now. He could die an old man, asleep in his bed. He could have a wife and children and a home. Lena's heart felt bigger than it ever had. Lancelot would live. He would live, and for the first time since he had been taken from his home, know what it meant to be alive.

Lancelot smiled back at Lena, for some reason her crooked grin made him want to smile forever. There they stood, through the smoke and blood and carnage of the dying battle, smiling at one another as though they were privy to a secret the rest of the world would never learn.

And as quickly as Lena's smile had come, it vanished. Her eyes widened and panic seized her body. Something was wrong. Everything in her was telling her that something was wrong.

Tristan.

Lena whipped her head around, unsure of what to do or where to go. She ran over to the Saxon she had just killed and pulled her sword from his stiff body. Her feet began to carry her in a direction beyond her control, but she trusted them. The Sight would lead her to wherever it was she had to be. Lena had gotten three steps past Lancelot when she turned around. He was watching her still, his dark eyes smoldering and alert.

Lena couldn't keep it in. Something was telling her to say it, to make sure it was said now and not lost forever. The words passed through her lips before she had time to decide whether she wanted them to.

"I love you."

And then she had turned away again, letting her feet and the Sight take her where they would. She was running, completely oblivious to her surrounding, knowing only that she had to find Tristan.

_Three for one, Three for one, Three for one._

It was a very faint whisper now, but it confused Lena to no end. She had killed the Saxon, so shouldn't the chant have stopped? The life fate wanted was taken, so why was she overwhelmed by the feeling that Tristan was in awful danger?

Lena's feet stopped and she looked around. Her body had brought her to the right place. She looked before her and found, to her dismay, Tristan fighting (and losing to) a Saxon with very long hair…the other Saxon from her dream; the one she had given Tristan explicit orders to stay away from. If only he had listened to her, everything would have fallen in place. This was the reason the voice still lingered in her head.

Why had the Sight made her warn Tristan if he wasn't going to listen? Lena watched in horror as the Saxon struck him hard. He was in bad shape, but Lena knew that she was no match for the Saxon either. Her eyes widened as something dawned on her. Maybe the warning had just been a way to buy time. Without it, maybe Tristan would have been dead already, and Lena would never have come to intervene. This man was Arthur's to kill, so maybe Lena just had to hold him off until the half Roman arrived. She didn't have to kill him…she just had to not die.

The Saxon took a swing at Tristan and the Knight crumpled to his knees. It was a bad hit, but it wouldn't be fatal. Tristan still had life in him, and Lena wasn't about to let that go. She had killed the man fate had asked for. That meant things had to work out, didn't it? Tristan was going to live; Lena just had to do her part…at least that's what she tried to tell herself.

"Stop!" She screamed. The Saxon looked towards her, interested. This was a game to him, Lena could tell. As long as she kept his attention off of Tristan, the Saxon would be having too much fun to care what happened to the Knight. He watched her curiously, and Lena kept her eyes on him as well as she approached Tristan. He thought this was funny.

Tristan gave Lena a mournful, apologetic look once she reached him and spoke to him in a low whisper. "Find Arthur." Tristan nodded, clutching his abdomen and getting up to his feet.

Lena moved in front of Tristan, giving him time to hobble away, and raised her sword, inviting the Saxon to engage in a fight. The man raised an eyebrow. "What's made you so brave, little girl?" He asked with an unsettling smile.

Lena didn't respond. Instead, they circled each other a few times, neither willing to make the first move. Lena was tired, and had already taken quite a beating today. She doubted she'd stand a chance against this man when at her best, but now? Could she make it past a few seconds even? Maybe not, but there was no other choice now.

All she had to do was hold him off until Tristan and Arthur came back. Lena looked at the man with determination. She could do that. She could.

The Saxon seemed to grow tired with waiting for Lena to make a move, so he took the first swing. Lena blocked and the Saxon studied her appraisingly. He made another few attempts which she blocked, obviously finding it difficult to keep up. The Saxon smiled and Lena knew what he was thinking. He would play with her. She was quite clearly no match for him, so he would take his time and enjoy this.

The Saxon double timed his attack and Lena found herself panting for air. The wound on her arm was bleeding heavily and she felt faint from loss of blood. Her legs felt shaky and slow. She deflected another blow and the Saxon paused, seemingly waiting for her to attack.

Lena stood her ground. This was a defensive fight. She just had to last until Arthur arrived and then everything would be fine. Just another few minutes and everything would be fine.

The Saxon took a slice at her and this time Lena was too slow. The blade ripped across her left thigh and she staggered back in pain. He advanced, taking advantage of her weakness, and with two hard strikes he had knocked the sword from her hand. She stood before him utterly defenseless, but the Saxon motioned for her to retrieve the sword, and Lena kept her eyes on him warily as she did.

She just had to last until Arthur came. She just had to keep at this until then, and then the battle would be over and they all would have survived it.

Lena sprung at the Saxon, attacking with a new fervor, but her body was weak and tired. Her strikes were off and her blocks were sloppy. She kept at it though, telling herself over and over that she just had to wait until Arthur arrived.

Praying that he would come soon.

She was fighting recklessly, poorly, _desperately_—like a man who knew he was going to die but held on to life with a pathetic and hopeless tenacity. The Saxon took a forceful swing and Lena felt pain tear across her abdomen. Her eyes went wide and both she and the Saxon stood still. There was fresh blood on his sword…her blood.

Lena's eyes traveled down to her stomach. He had cut her, long and deep, right across the belly. Her hands went to the wound and she watched them become covered in dark blood. Someone was screaming. Lena looked up, still in a daze, and saw that both Guinevere and Lancelot were running towards her, having seen the whole thing. Guinevere was shrieking like Lena had never heard before.

She looked back to the Saxon and found he was posed to make the final blow. Her sword had fallen out of her hand at some point without her realizing it. The Woad dropped to her knees, unable to keep herself upright any longer. She watched as the sword came down, inching closer and closer to the end of her life. She was dead anyway, Lena knew. He could slit her throat, as it looked like he was preparing to do, and end it quickly, or let the wound he had already inflicted finish her off more slowly. It didn't matter though.

Everything was over now.

"Saxon!" Both Lena and her assailant followed the sound of the voice that had effectively stilled the Saxon's blade. Arthur. He was here, he had come. The half Roman glanced at Lena with concern and she managed to shake her head. He was too late.

The Saxon noticed the look of concern. Now that Arthur was here he couldn't care less about the scrawny Woad, but if she meant something to the Roman, he was more than happy to cause her a little more pain. He spun back and knocked her hard across the face, sending Lena to the ground, flat on her back.

After that Arthur and the Saxon engaged in a fairly heated battle, the sounds of which Lena could barely make out. Everything seemed distant now, as she lay there staring at the sky.

There was a hawk circling above her.

And then again, something dawned on Lena. The voice had stopped. The repetitive, disturbing voice was gone, and the horrible weight of responsibility had lifted. But they had not disappeared when she had killed the bald Saxon. It had not been until that final swipe to her abdomen that the voice and pressure had left her.

Lena laughed; a cold hard laugh that sent pain spiraling through her broken body. Suddenly Guinevere and Lancelot had reached her and were crowded above her, blocking her view of the sky. She kept laughing despite the pain and soon the laughs turned into sobs. "It wasn't him." She explained numbly, staring past Guinevere and Lancelot. Tears were streaming down her cousin's face and Lancelot looked pained beyond words. He placed a cool, bloody hand on the side of Lena's face.

Lena finally understood. Everything from the dream made sense now; the voice, the Saxon's, _her mother_.

It hadn't been her mother though. Her vision had been blurred and Lena had let herself believe what she wanted to.

And people were always saying how much Lena resembled her mother. "It was me," she choked out weakly. "I thought it was my mother, but it was me."

Guinevere stifled a sob. "I don't understand, Lena."

Recalling the sickly, half-dead woman from her vision, the Seer smiled. "I saw myself dying."

"No!" Guinevere yelled. "No, that's not right, Lena." She wept. "You have to live." Lena could hear Guinevere yelling at someone to get a horse.

"Three for one." Lena mumbled to herself. "Fate didn't want the Saxon; he was already going to die." The edges of her vision were blurry and Lena's words were beginning to slur.

"What?" Lancelot spoke, his low voice strained.

"Three lives in exchange for one." She explained, feeling tears slide down her own face. "That was what the dream said." It was getting hard to talk, harder to breath. "I thought it was the Sax—Saxon who was to die, but it—it was me." Lena let out a sputtering cough and she could taste blood in her mouth.

"For whose lives, Lena?" Lancelot asked somewhat desperately, as if maybe they could take it back and reverse the whole thing.

The Woad took a rattling breath and exhaled shakily. "B—Balor, and Tristan," her eyes were on Lancelot's. "And you." The Knight looked both confused and overwhelmed by guilt. "I would have done it still—" She sputtered. "Knowing I was to die." Things were getting darker and Lena could feel her body going limp.

"Lena!" Guinevere was yelling but her voice was becoming fainter and fainter. "Lena, please!"

The Seer let her eyes close. Her body was numbing to the pain of her wound and she was overcome by tiredness. "It's all right," she mumbled, unsure whether or not she was actually speaking. "I'm not afraid." Lena couldn't feel Lancelot's hand on her face anymore. "Please don't be afraid."

And then she felt like she was floating, and the cry of a hawk echoed in her mind. Guinevere's voice, slow and distant, lingered as well.

"_Lena, you have to stay with me. Please. Lena, please." _

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Okay, long chapter, I know. I think things got really confusing, I tried hard to keep it clear, but without much success, I'm afraid. Tell me what you think, please! We're dwindling down to an end here, weird huh? I'd like to finish this before school starts up again, because junior year is going to be a bitch. Anyway, please review! Thanks guys!

Blue


	17. Let's Begin Again

**Disclaimer**: It ain't mine and it never will be.

**A/N**: So folks, this is officially the last chapter, although I may do an epilogue thing. I hope you enjoyed the story, and thank you times 09640967904590390939208 billion to everyone who read or reviewed.

**Choices**

**Chapter 17**: Let's Begin Again

The Woad healers had done what they could, but there was little hope now. They had rushed Lena back to the Wall and put her up in the Knight's quarters—Merlin had sent all his best doctors to care for her. They had done everything possible, but all there was to do now was wait. Wait for a movement, wait for a change, wait for any sign of life at all, or wait for death even. Wait for the end.

Was this really the end, then? Was this all that Lancelot got? Were the last few days all the time he would ever have known her? Would he live the rest of his life, however long or short that would be, without ever hearing her voice or seeing her face or holding her hand?

Lancelot watched Lena from a chair in her room. Guinevere had fallen asleep in the bed, beside her unconscious cousin, exhausted from her hysterical sorrow. Merlin had ambled in and out of the room several times, but seemed unable to handle the sight of Lena so pale, feverish, and near death. Each of the Knights had come in to pay their respects, to ask how she was or if there had been any sign of improvement. They had all stood and watched her for a moment or two and then left to wait outside the door, feeling like intruders. Arthur had stayed, mostly for Guinevere's sake, until his lover had fallen asleep, at which time he was called away to deal with some of the aftermath of today's battle. He had not wanted to leave but Lancelot had told him it was fine. He would stay and wait. He was going to either way.

Tristan had come in too. It was surprising, to say the least, seeing as the man was in pretty miserable shape himself. He had stayed the longest of the men, aside from Lancelot. Tristan had stood by Lena's bed and watched her closely for a long while. It might have made Lancelot slightly curious if he himself had had the heart to do anything but watch her as well. It seemed as though Tristan and the Woad were having a silent conversation, as if in his head, Tristan was articulating to her all the things he could and would not say out loud. He had taken her hand and gently pressed his lips to her palm, a simple gesture of gratitude and thanks, a gesture that begged her forgiveness. After that he had left the room with a look on his face Lancelot had never before seen.

And now Lancelot sat waiting still, unable move or sleep or breath or do anything but watch Lena. She was pale, whiter than the cotton sheets that were wrapped around her frail form, a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, speaking to the fever that ravaged her weak body, and her breathing was shallow and uneven, Lancelot strained to hear it—the only indication that she was still alive. He watched as Lena took a deep and rattling breath. Dear Gods, if that didn't sound like death he didn't know what did.

The Knight waited for the comforting sound of exhalation, but it did not come. He stood quickly and made his way to the bed, heart beating faster than it had in his entire life. He placed two fingers on her neck to check her pulse; he placed an ear over her mouth, listening to her lungs.

Nothing. Lena was not breathing.

Oh Gods, this could not be the end.

Lancelot shook Lena while calling frantically for a doctor over his shoulder. Guinevere woke beside her cousin and began to panic as well. The Woad healers ran in and pushed both Lancelot and Guinevere aside and Guinevere began to cry again and clung to the Knight hopelessly, as they both watched the healers working over Lena hurriedly.

Lancelot felt his racing heart stop dead in his chest.

_This could not be the end_.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_There was nothing here. There was no blackness, no whiteness, no color, no movement or form or shape—it was nothingness, simple and overwhelming nothingness. _

_Voices floated through Lena, above her, around her, below her, into her—voices were all she knew and even they seemed strange and unfamiliar. She knew them somehow, and though the words seemed jumbled and new to her ears—or her soul, whatever it was she was listening with now—she still felt the meaning. _

"_These two are alive!"_

"_Wake up, just for a moment."_

_"They saved us, Lena!"_

_"You should not go walking alone yet. You are still weak, Lady."_

_"You could never jig at all, you oaf."_

_"Tilt back you head, child."_

_"Lena! You're...you're clean!" _

_"And who is it you're so worried for, fair Lady?"_

_"What the hell are you doing?"_

_"You know nothing of the loss I speak!"_

_"The gods have brought you back to us!" _

_"You most of all should know how little death means." _

_"How good it is to know you are safe!" _

_"You don't have to save him!" _

_"I spoke to your cousin earlier. She said that these are my people."_

_"My journey with you must end here."_

_"Say goodnight, Lena, not goodbye."_

_Memories. Memories indefinite in shape but so concrete in feeling that the Woad's heart remembered what her mind, now half-way between two worlds, could not. She had been loved. By whom she could not remember, names and faces were forgotten to her fading soul, but she knew that she had been loved and loved well. All this she left behind, **would** leave behind very soon. _

_This love, as comforting as it was, would be gone too in just a few more seconds. It would be extinguished, along with her. Fate had wanted a life, had insisted upon a life, and hers was the life to be taken. _

_But had Lena **had** a life before? How could fate take again that which it had already stolen from her? She had been robbed of her life when she was six years old, when she'd been struck down by the Sight and forced to live a half-life. Fate had taken her then, had used her as an instrument of its divine power, her life had not belonged to her for years and years. The knowledge, the wisdom, the weight and burden of it all—that was not life. What she had been given was **not** life. So how then, could it be taken away? _

_**Three for one.**_

_Three lives saved for one life sacrificed, wasn't that the deal?_

_**Three for one.**_

_Fate was not unkind. It would not ask so much of the one person it had already taken everything from._

_**Three for one.**_

_Three lives saved for one begun anew._

_**Three for one**._

_A life without the burden or the blessing. _

_**Three for one.**_

_Fate had wanted her to die so that she could start again, free this time, free and truly alive. _

_**Three for one.**_

_She could open her eyes, and before her would be a world she had never seen before. One full of life and beauty that she could learn of for herself, not through visions, not through the eyes and hearts of those she did not know. Never again would she be forced to look through others on the world. No more visions, no more talents, no more Sight. The world could do without. _

_**Three for one.**_

_Faces flashed before Lena in the nothingness; faces that she could almost recognize now, faces that were becoming more and more familiar. There was love yet to be shared, jokes and tears and kisses. There were weddings and homes and children to be had. There was a world to be discovered. There was a life, a gift, to be, for the first time, **lived**. _

_**Three for one.**_

_No, Fate had never been unkind to her. It was repaying her now for its cruelty with the life she had always deserved. _

_Life. _

_Lena exhaled. _

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Lena exhaled and the sound wound around the room. It was the sound of a soul leaving a body. The healers stopped what they were doing, and Guinevere noticed before Lancelot had finished listening to that haunting last breath.

"What is going on! What are you doing!" Guinevere insisted. "Why aren't you doing anything!" She sounded regal and furious, but anyone who was really listening knew it was all grief; blind and hopeless grief. The Woads looked to her, a brave one shaking his head, before they ambled out of the room. Guinevere collapsed to the floor, utterly inconsolable.

Lancelot made his way to the bed, and without realizing it had put his hand to Lena's face. His heart wrenched painfully in his chest as Guinevere's sobs echoed through the otherwise dead silent room.

He looked to Lena's pale and lifeless form and ran a hand through her dark hair. She was beautiful still, even now, even like this.

"I love you too." He whispered, his voice low and strained. Lancelot leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

He saw what they all saw but he could not feel it. Lena lay dead before him, but his heart, still knotted in agony, whispered to him again and he could not help but feel it knew best.

_This could not be the end._

Lancelot looked back to Guinevere, whose face was buried in her hands. Her sorrow was overwhelming and tangible. Why did he not feel that way too? Why did he feel as though he were waiting for something? Another sound passed through the room, stilling Guinevere's sobs. The Woad looked up to the Knight, who seemed equally perplexed. It was like a great, dry wind was passing through the room; both felt it on their skin and Guinevere's hair fanned out in the draft. It swirled around them roughly and even banged open a window before disappearing altogether.

_Three lives saved for one begun anew. _

Lancelot stared at Guinevere, hoping for some kind of an answer, but was met only with a scream. The Woad pointed a finger in the direction of the four post bed and Lancelot turned, only to come face to face with Lena, eyes open, sitting upright in her bed. Guinevere screamed again and the Knights ran in, seemingly under the impression that she was in mortal danger. The Woad healers had informed them of Lena's death, so they all stood open mouthed in the doorway upon seeing her quite alive. Lancelot stared at her as well, though he did not harbor the same surprise as the others. He had known all along that this could not be the end…his heart had told him so.

Lena threw back her blankets, jumped from the bed, and took two mounting steps before throwing herself at Lancelot. He caught her and smiled at the grin that was growing across her countenance. Before said grin had time to fully form, however, the Knight stifled it with a kiss. A hard and desperate kiss that Lena returned wholeheartedly.

The Woad pulled away and her smile seemed to grow. "Give me your hand." She instructed, and although Lancelot gave her a questioning look he complied. Lena held his hand in hers and closed her eyes, concentrating hard. Seconds later her eyes flew open again and she let out a surprising and joyous laugh.

"What did you see, Lena?" Guinevere, still in total shock, managed to ask while wiping at the fresh tears (now of joy and confusion rather than overwhelming sadness) that were rushing forth.

"Nothing!" Lena laughed again before worming out of Lancelot's arms and running to her cousin. She placed a hand to Guinevere's tear-streaked face and closed her eyes again, trying to receive some sort of vision. Nothing. Again, nothing. Lena repeated the procedure on each of the Knights, the whole room watching her strangely.

Nothing, not a thing from any one of them. Not a memory or a future or anything at all.

The Sight was gone, she was sure. Not only could she not receive any visions, but her whole body felt different. It was lighter, it was easier to move and breathe and think. She could not see it herself, but her complexion even looked healthier than it had in years. She was stronger. Lena laughed yet again. How incorrectly she had interpreted her last vision! Fate had been showing her the ultimate kindness, not destroying the little fragment of a life she had had.

She was free. Lena was finally free.

She turned back to Guinevere and embraced her tightly. "It's gone." She whispered. "The Sight is gone."

"What!" Guinevere seemed too confused for words at this point. Lena ran a hand over her own stomach. It felt smooth—untouched by any Saxon blade. She rolled up her sleeve and there was no injury on her arm where the Saxon had cut her deep.

"The Sight is gone, and Fate has let me live!" Lena pulled away completely and looked to Lancelot. He seemed to be the only one who really understood. She walked back to him and he snaked and arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Lena looked to Guinevere and the others. "Don't you see?" She seemed impatient, excited. "I had to die, but only so that I could come to life again. _Real _life. I'm free now…" Her smile widened. "It seems we all are."

The men and Guinevere still seemed lost. The Knight, however, were happy enough to give a "Here, here!" to her last statement and figure things out as they came. Guinevere's head was spinning, but as long as Lena wasn't dead she too overjoyed to care. It didn't matter if the Sight was lost forever. Guinevere looked at Lena and saw for the first time what she had always imagined her cousin should have looked like. Happy and healthy and whole…and _alive_.

Arthur had rushed into the room at some point and seemed mightily confused as well. He was holding Guinevere now, who was laughing along with her cousin, and although he couldn't help but be a bit concerned, he found it hard to keep the smile off of his face as well.

Lena looked around the room and was overcome by contentedness. Here she was, surrounded by love; unconditional, unburdened love. The kind she had looked for all her life.

She wrapped her arms around Lancelot's neck and he looked down on her with nothing but adoration. Lena grinned like a little child. She didn't know if she could be happier than she was in this moment, holding the man she loved—being held by the man who loved her too.

She had heard him. Even in nothingness, in death, in the dark beyond darkness, his voice had found her, had brought her home.

Lancelot leaned in and whispered to her. "I knew it couldn't be the end." He said earnestly.

"Of course." Lena answered simply, placing a chaste kiss on his dry lips. "It's only the beginning."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

There you go! We've reached the end (unless of course I go through with the epilogue, which I'm not so sure about). Thanks again to all my amazing readers and reviewers, you guys inspire me. This is a little bit sad actually, and I'm not sure I like the end so much. Cheesy, I know, but I figure there had been a pretty high cheese factor throughout the story so why not stick with it to the end? Better than killing her off, right? Well thank you guys again, I've learned a lot throughout this process and I'm both proud and sad to see it end.

Much Love,

Blue


	18. Epilogue

**Disclaimer**: It isn't mine so don't sue me.

**Choices**

**Epilogue**

Lena listened intently to the little girl whose hand she was holding as they made their way down a dark hall. The swishing of her muslin gown against the stone floor made a pleasant sound while they walked together.

"Mama says she thinks today is the day and so do I." The girl informed her. "Galahad said not to be too hopeful. He's afraid they won't come back in time for the baby." Eve's auburn hair shown brightly once the duo made it into the sunlight. It was as bright as Etta's hair now, and so much longer than it had been when they had first met. Lena found herself surprised by how much time had passed since that day. Life had felt so long back then, so burdensome and bleak that a day could feel like an eternity. Now it seemed three years had passed in the blink of an eye. How this little girl had grown! "_I_ hope they come in time."

Lena nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "They'll have to hurry then. They're nearly a month late already, and the baby will be here any day now." Lena spoke of Etta's pregnancy. She and Galahad had courted for nearly two years before the man had worked up the courage to ask for her hand. Of course, Etta had accepted happily and they had barely waited a week before tying the knot. Now they were expecting their first child (although both considered it their third, Galahad having always loved both Brice and Eve like children of his own).

"Do you miss them?" Eve asked as she and Lena turned a corner.

"Very much." The Woad answered earnestly. How could she not? Her whole body had been suffering from a dull ache since the moment that the Knights had left for Sarmatia. They were her family. She and Lancelot were to be married this winter…that was if he ever made it back. They were, as she had said, due to return almost a month ago. Travel was always unpredictable, especially so close to winter, but Lena didn't know how much she could take. They had been gone seven months, and the ache was becoming more of a sharp pain.

All of the Knights, excepting Bors and Galahad who had remained behind to watch over their respective families, had decided that the time had come to return to their birthplace temporarily, reunite with their families, and make the long journey to Sarmatia. They, of course, had all wanted to return as soon as their servitude to Rome had expired, but after Arthur was crowned King, things had been much too hectic for his most trusted Knights to go anywhere at all until quite recently.

Lena, despite Lancelot's best efforts at convincing her, had opted not to tag along. After having not seen Lancelot in over half a year, she was regretting that decision. But Lena knew she was needed here as well. Aside from the fact that she was still a Woad Princess and important diplomatic power, Arthur had made her (along with Merlin) one of his Royal Advisers. If she hadn't been busy enough with her political duties, Lena still would have had enough to handle. Etta was pregnant and needed help with her other two children, and Guinevere wasn't much good for that considering she had a two year-old son of her own to look after now. Her cousin would have even more to handle soon. They had discovered five months ago that she was once again with child, and a pregnant Queen caused quite the commotion.

Lena thought of her nephew, plump and bright little Gareth, and couldn't help but beam. Guinevere and Arthur were loving parents. Their growing family was the absolute picture of contentment.

Lena and Eve entered a room to find said pregnant Queen being measured for new dresses that would fit her growing belly. Guinevere, beautiful as ever and positively glowing from head to toe, seemed to be debating with the seamstress over what colors and fabrics were most appropriate for the approaching winter. Eve and Lena, knowing better than to get dragged into the discussion, occupied themselves with Gareth, who had been sitting quite patiently in his crib, watching his mother with alert green eyes. Arthur's eyes, Lena noted appreciatively. He was quite the handsome babe.

Lena, sitting in a large chair, bounced her nephew on her knee while Eve made faces at him, eliciting a round of charming giggles from the boy. "Enough! Enough!" They could hear the frustrated seamstress as she packed up her things. "I'll make one of burgundy wool and the others you can choose yourself!" The lady bustled to the door. "And you!" She said, pointing at Lena. "Come see me soon! I won't have a Princess running around in such worn down dresses on my watch! What will people think, what _will_ they think?" They could hear her mumbling still as she made her way down the hall.

Guinevere gave an exasperated sigh before making her way over to Lena and Eve. "That woman!" She said and Lena gave a chuckle. "Hello, my boy!" Her mood changed to pure adoration as she knelt beside Eve, cooing at her son affectionately.

"We thought we'd come visit you." Lena explained, still bouncing the happy baby. "Etta was giving Brice a bath."

"Mama says that when the new baby comes I can help give it baths too!" Eve said excitedly.

Guinevere smiled at the girl. "You'll be quite the big sister."

"I already am!" Eve replied indignantly. Both Lena and Guinevere broke into laughter. It was a well known fact that despite her love for him, Eve made the most of every possible opportunity to torture her younger brother. "What! I _am_!"

"Yes, dear, we know you are." Lena said sincerely, trying not to offend the girl. Eve seemed content enough with that, and resumed playing with Gareth. They stayed like that for a while, the three women fawning over the little Prince, until the door to the sitting room swung open to reveal a slightly out of breath Arthur. He looked like he had run here.

"They're back!" He announced, a smile spreading over his face. Arthur had missed his brothers just as much as anyone else.

Eve gave a happy gasp and shouted "I told you it would be today!" before running out of the room. Arthur dashed in to give Guinevere a peck on the cheek and tickled Gareth under the chin quickly before running out again to catch up with Eve. For someone as serious and responsible as the King was, Arthur really could show his boyish side sometimes.

Guinevere and Lena, still surprised by the suddenness of the news, gave each other wide-eyed looks before hurrying to their feet and making a break for the hall. However, despite their enthusiasm, seeing as Guinevere's belly was getting to be quite sizable, they had to walk at a fairly slow pace. Lena carried Gareth to make things easier for her cousin. The Woad could feel the anticipation growing. She had waited for six months, and worried herself sick for the last three and half weeks wondering what could be keeping them. The adrenaline pumping through her from sheer excitement made Lena want to break into a run.

Guinevere gave her cousin an apologetic smile. "You've missed him so." She stated. "I hate to keep you apart any longer." Lena rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to leave the pregnant Queen and toddler Prince to stumble down the hallways on their own." Guinevere tisked and gave Lena a look. "Fine, I won't leave my _sister_ and _nephew_." She corrected herself. Guinevere smiled a sweet and humble smile at that. They had always been sisters. Maybe not by blood, but surely in spirit and heart, they were and always would be. Thick as thieves since they were seven summers old—that kind of love certainly outweighed any biology one could come up with.

Guinevere gave a contented sigh and placed a pale hand on her growing abdomen. "We are infinitely blessed." She said more to herself than Lena.

"Hmmm." Lena nodded, smiling at the child in her arms. "To think I spent so long not knowing how wonderful life could be." She thought back to the day she had died, the day she had been born again. She had thought that she could never be as happy as she had on that one day. Looking at Gareth and Guinevere, she knew she'd been wrong.

Lena had been _just_ as happy many times. Happiness came in people, came in love, came in moments. She knew that now, and she knew she had had her share of it. It was there, that overwhelming happiness, in everything she could remember. It was in Tristan teaching her throwing knives and in her cutting Gawain's hair to impress a barmaid. It was in Balor's birthday celebration and in picking berries with Eve and Brice in woods full of dapple sunlight. It was in helping Etta dress for her wedding, it was in the bear hug Galahad had given her when Etta had said yes. It was in Dagonet's kind words and Bors' crude jokes. It was in Merlin's rare laughter and Gareth's first steps and Arthur's honest eyes and Lancelot's frequent kisses. It was in braiding Guinevere's hair as she had done when they were young and riding her horse and swimming in the pond they found that day in spring. It was in the way the wind felt in her hair, and in the way she felt in Lancelot's arms, waking beside him.

The reason her life had been so difficult, had been such an overwhelming burden because of the Sight, was that she had been forced to live constantly in moments that were not her own, moments that had passed or moments that would come to be. The past and future, the memories and destinies of others, could not provide the joy she knew so well now. Happiness was in right nows and right heres. It was this moment, and memories of her own like it, that made her heart swell and overflow. It was this second that filled her and made her whole.

It was all there was…before that had meant nothing, but now, Lena knew, it meant everything.

Lena could hear them before she saw them. Their voices echoed against the walls of the courtyard entrance. Galahad and Gawain were hugging and muffled words could be heard between them, Bors was saying something about a baby's arm holding an apple to Dagonet, who was laughing heartily. The sound of Tristan's thick drawl brought a smile to Lena's face. Arthur could be heard laughing as well, and Eve's sweet voice carried above the rest.

"Lancelot!" She squealed after being released by Tristan (the Knight had grown a rare soft spot for the child). Eve launched herself at Lancelot and he obliged happily, kneeling to catch her in an embrace.

Lena felt her pace quicken at the sound of his name. She took a deep breath and tried to settle herself as she turned the corner. Lancelot was kneeling, listening somewhat distractedly to Eve, who had just broken away from the hug she initiated. He was looking around. Then he was looking at her, Lena realized. She felt shaky and teary as Guinevere took Gareth from her arms. She felt like a mess inside. Why was she on the verge of tears, she wondered in bewilderment? She hardly ever cried, and certainly not from happiness. It was pointless to waste the good moments crying.

Lancelot stood, breaking into his characteristic, charming grin. It was so familiar it made Lena feel even more ridiculously weepy. Before she knew it she had broken into a sprint, dignity be damned, and was headed straight for him. He laughed, a bit surprised, and caught her by the waist, lifting her in the air. With her hands on his shoulders, Lancelot spun her, the sun catching in her hair, illuminating her eyes and her smile. He was certain, as he set her down and brought her close, pressing a deep and long awaited kiss to her hungry lips, that he had never loved someone the way he loved Lena.

Gawain whistled and Galahad could be heard hooting beside him. Lena and Lancelot broke their kiss, the latter giving a devilish grin while the former blushed furiously. "Oh shut up!" Lena shouted in a rather unladylike fashion that surprised both the laughing Knights, before turning back to Lancelot.

Dear Gods, how she had missed him. _Dear Gods_, how she loved him! Lena pressed herself to his body, burying her face in him. "You cad," She mumbled into his chest before pulling back to look him in the eye. She swallowed, trying hard to keep down the tears that still threatened to rush forth. "I shall never let you leave me again."

Something flashed across Lancelot's face. He looked uncharacteristically sincere as he tucked a strand of Lena's hair behind her ear. "Never." He answered solemnly, before leaning down to kiss her once more. It was a sweet and simple kiss—one more cherished moment.

Lena felt a tugging on the hem of her dress and broke the kiss to find Eve staring up at her. She gave the girl a sheepish smile and leaned into her Knight. "Yes?"

"Did you tell Lancelot how big Mama's belly has gotten?" She asked, holding her arms out in front of her stomach to demonstrate. Eve looked to Lancelot who, despite his fondness for the child, appeared slightly annoyed at having been halted yet again while trying to kiss Lena. _Almighty Gods_! He had waited nearly seven months for this he did not want to wait any longer! His annoyance seemed to go unnoticed by Eve. Lancelot looked to Lena, who was nodding intently at whatever the little girl was saying. He could not for the life of him understand her infinite patience with the child…but maybe that just made him love her more.

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" Eve asked.

Lena looked at the little girl thoughtfully, her eyes flashing to Lancelot for a second. Then she gave a smile—an easy and mysterious smile. "I don't know." She said plainly. It was beautiful, Lena decided, not knowing.

After that, Lancelot took her hand in his and the warmth spread from Lena's fingers to her heart. Another moment of happiness to keep tucked away with the others. They would have many in their lives to come.

The End.

**A/N**: So I decided to go through with the epilogue after all. I think I like this as the ending better than the final chapter. I know it's not as summary-ish for the rest of their lives as most actual epilogues are, but I tried that and it just didn't work for me. I said a long time ago I might do a sequel, and some people have asked about that, but I think I've gone as far with this as I can. I had all these crazy plans with Balor and Lena's father that just don't seem to make sense anymore. And I know I won't have the time this year to make it work. Wow. So I guess this is really the end then, huh? Well, as I said in the last chapter, I am unendingly appreciative to all my readers and reviewers. I know I was a crazy bad updater, but I hope it was worth it in the end. Also, I want to thank _Fallen Knights_, for making the script available. This has been an enormous learning experience for me, so really, thank you so much to everyone who contributed.

Blue


End file.
